


Voice and Perception

by Rynn336



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deaf Character, Deaf!Makoto, M/M, Probably more characters and some side relationships later, School Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynn336/pseuds/Rynn336
Summary: A school life AU where Makoto is deaf, Junko is actually the Ultimate Fashionista, despair isn't like this huge thing, and Hope's Peak admin and scientists don't suck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!  
> So, this is my first Naegami fanfiction, and I'm pretty excited about it! But like with any story, I'm really a horrible judge of how good my writing is, so depending on how the first chapter or two is received I may or may not continue it. And I'd really appreciate any feedback you have to give me, particularly in respect to how in character all the hope nuggets are and what I could do better. Also, maybe give me some things you'd like to see! I'm more than happy to do almost any requests, and I don't really have the story planned out, so it could be really good material to advance the story in unexpected ways!   
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Tell me what you thought in the comments, and leave kudos if you want me to keep going with it!

Byakuya fumbles clumsily with his blazer, attempting once again to fit the buttons through the holes, but they slip out of his grasp, the smooth brass unable to gain any friction against the smooth material of his clothing. This damn new uniform is going to make him late for the first time in his life. His watch beeps frantically, screeching in his ears, and he grits his teeth. Eight o’clock. Orientation’s starting.

He grabs one of the buttons and all but shoves it through a hole. He got it! But…he growls to himself as he realizes it’s the wrong one. “Damn it,” he hisses, undoing it, and finally, finally, he manages to do it. He grabs his shoes and his bag, racing out of his room and down the stairs, and his heels pound against the wood floors, almost as fast as his hammering heartbeat. _He’s late, he’s late, he’s late._ His pulse beats in his throat as he bursts out the door and runs down the steps to the car, his driver tapping the steering wheel impatiently, and he revs the engine when he sees Byakuya throw himself into the backseat. “Go!” Byakuya barks, and his driver takes off. His luggage, probably taken care of by one of his family’s plethora of servants, rattles in the trunk, and he really hopes there’s nothing breakable inside.

It seems to Byakuya like every light they hit turns red, and every light they hit his pulse quickens just a little bit. He’s twenty minutes late by the time they spot Hope’s Peak towering over the trees in front of them, and his driver parks quickly. “You should go, sir.”

“I know that,” Byakuya snaps. “Bring my things to my room for me.” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before he leaps out of the limousine and hurries with as much dignity as he can muster toward the school building. At this rate he might be better off just skipping orientation, but he doesn’t know when it ends and it would be unbefitting of a Togami not to be completely up to date on all of the orientation information before school starts. He looks around for any other students who might be as late as he is. No one. The campus is empty, trees swaying in a light breeze and lights flickering on in classrooms one by one as – presumably – teachers prepare their rooms for the first day of school.

He all but explodes into the entrance hall and goes immediately to the gymnasium. He pushes the door open slowly, as quietly as he can, and makes his way toward the center, where fifteen other uniform-clad students stand talking happily. The moment he steps into the room, they fall silent, and he can feel more than see all of their gazes trained on him. He pulls his shoulders back a little and crosses his arms over his chest, listening to the click of his shoes against the wooden floor as he surveys the room, making note of the empty stage and letting a scowl ghost across his face. “Hi!” A girl in a red sports jacket says, smiling excitedly. The huge woman (?) behind her looks him up and down. “I’m Aoi Asahina, but you can just call me Hina! I mean, if you want. Some people call me Asahina. Are you a freshman, too? Nice to meet you!”

He huffs. “Byakuya Togami,” he says, but his voice is drowned out by the outraged bellow of a dark-haired boy with quite honestly the strangest eyebrows Byakuya has ever seen. “Fellow classmate! What is the meaning of this?”

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“You are twenty two minutes late! Such a massive violation of school rules is positively unacceptable!”

Byakuya gives him a sideways glance in contempt. “Lower the volume. You’re hurting my ears.”

A deep furrow appears between the boy’s eyebrows, and, seething, he opens his mouth to berate Byakuya, but the girl in the sports jacket laughs uncomfortably. “Hey, how about we go around and say our names and talents? I’ve introduced myself to most of you, but I don’t really know any of you guys!” She gives them an overly sunny smile.

“Splendid idea!” the dark-haired boy barks. “My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru! My talent is the Ultimate Moral Compass!”

An incredibly short guy with light brown hair and big green eyes looks up and down almost frenetically between everyone else and his phone. Byakuya watches him as the rest introduce themselves. Sakura Oogami, Mondo Oowada, Hifumi Yamada, Sayaka Maizono, Leon Kuwata, Celestia Ludenberg (which can’t possibly be her real name), Junko Enoshima, Mukuro Ikusaba, Chihiro Fujisaki, and, with a little bit of prodding, Touko Fukawa and Kyouko Kirigiri speak up as well. Aoi Asahina introduces herself again as the Ultimate Swimmer. Byakuya sighs and tells them his name and talent as well. Once they’ve all gone, they look at the short boy expectantly. He looks up from his phone and blinks when he sees all of their eyes on him. He hesitates, chewing his lip.

“Don’t be shy,” Sayaka encourages him gently. “What’s your name?”

He looks down at his phone again, and then looks around in confusion as if he hasn’t heard her. His shoes scuff the smooth gymnasium floor and he exhales slowly, his cheeks dusted lightly with pink. Finally he just turns his gaze to his feet, avoiding their eyes.

Byakuya raises an eyebrow. What’s his deal?

The shriek of microphone feedback suddenly blares from a speaker onstage, and Byakuya winces, eyes looking up at the stage accusingly, scanning for the culprit. A tall man that Byakuya recognizes as Jin Kirigiri from photographs of Hope’s Peak stands behind the microphone, smiling apologetically as the feedback dies down. “Sorry about that,” he says. “And I apologize for my lateness.”

They all turn toward him, and the small boy turns around hurriedly too when he sees everyone else looking the opposite direction. His gaze returns to his phone. How disrespectful can you be? Byakuya can see Taka tapping one index finger against his thigh in disapproval as he watches the boy out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m very pleased to welcome you all to Hope’s Peak Academy! I always love to meet every new class. Even just looking at you, I can see that you all nearly radiate talent, and I can’t put into words how happy I am to have you all at my school. My name is Jin Kirigiri. I am the headmaster here. Please don’t hesitate to come to me with any questions or concerns you may have. Before anyone asks, yes, Kyouko is my daughter, but no, she will not be receiving special treatment in any respect. And no, she is not just here because she is my daughter, but because she truly is the Ultimate Detective. Alright, that aside, we’ve got a lot for you here at Hope’s Peak! Various students have taken it upon themselves to form clubs whose schedules are often tailored to fit the study habits of their members, what with the rigorous academic curriculum you’ll find yourself immersed in during your time here. There are so many I’m not sure I can even list them all! But they’re always advertising for new members, so I’m sure you’ll see plenty of flyers on the walls after they take a couple of days to regroup. We have a very involved student council, and they accept freshmen in almost any officer position, so if that appeals to you, I definitely encourage you to look into it. As I’m sure you know – I have to go over it anyway, though, just in case some of you are not aware – we operate a bit differently from other schools. We are largely student run. You will have one teacher for all of your classes, and school begins late and ends early to give you free time, during which we hope you will work on improving your talents. The courtyard and the roof are wonderful places to study, as is the yard to either side of the path in front. We have high-speed Wi-Fi everywhere on campus so you should never have any problems with Internet speed or accessibility. All of our teachers are alumni, so if you get lost or need help or just someone to talk to, you can feel free go to any one of them. I trust you all have your maps sent to you in your invitation letters?”

They nod.

“Good. You’ll definitely need them. The school is fairly easy to get lost in when you’re still just getting your bearings. I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but Hope’s Peak has recently taken on a Reserve Course as well. The funds it garners for the school are essential, and the students are still committed. I don’t want to see any of you flaunting your talent around them. Mingling with them might actually also be very good for both you and them. Just remember that they are essential to the continuation of the school. They are here because they have dreams, too, and the money to make those dreams happen.” He lifts one shoulder. “Not that I think any of you would ever be rude to them, but I like to cover it in orientation anyway.”

They all look at Byakuya and Mondo. Looks like they’ve already established themselves as the resident unpleasant people. Byakuya doesn’t mind, but he can see it irks Mondo.

“Hm…what else? I’m sorry, I never prepare a speech. I don’t think I have anything else particularly helpful to tell you. You’ll find your dorms on the map. Freshmen have rooms on the first floor, and you each have your own. You each have your own shower, too, but only the doors on the girls’ showers lock. I think most of you have already put your things there or have had your things taken there. Each door has a nameplate on it, so it should be easy to find yours. The cafeteria opens for breakfast at six and is open during all of your free periods until lights out at ten PM. We’d like for you all to be in your rooms by then, but as long as you don’t sleep anywhere else in the school we will not force you to stay there. The library is always available, so if anyone has trouble sleeping, you’re free to go there, along with anywhere else that remains open to students at night. Like I said, though, don’t sleep anywhere else in the school. We encourage you to develop deep friendships and relationships with your classmates. Most carriers also offer good coverage on campus, so contact with the outside world is also welcome. Thank you for coming to Hope’s Peak!”

As the headmaster makes his way off of the stage, one glance around at his classmates tells Byakuya that they’re all very excited. Hina is talking rapidly to Sakura about donuts and how she’d seen a swimming pool on the map earlier, and Leon and Sayaka chat animatedly just out of earshot. They all have tiny smiles on their faces, even the boy still fixated on his phone. Byakuya will admit that this was much more than he expected. He supposes his mental image of school life here was very much like the private school he’s attended since his early elementary school, just with students that may actually be able to hold a candle to his talent, but it turns out that a school for the talented truly is very different from a school for the average. He’s fairly eager to explore the school and see all that it has to offer him.

They all filter slowly out of the gymnasium, and Byakuya pulls the key he was sent in the mail out of his pocket, heading to their rooms. When he reaches the one labeled “Byakuya Togami,” complete with a tiny picture of him, he goes in and searches through the bag placed at the foot of the bed for the map. His fingers brush the corner of a piece of paper, and he feels a spark of pain on the pad of his index finger. He swears under his breath and pulls out a handkerchief, pressing it against the cut, but it doesn’t staunch the bleeding. It’s deeper than he thought. There’s an infirmary here, right? He’ll have to drop by for a bandage.

He grabs the map and folds it neatly, tucking it into his pocket before leaving the room again, the handkerchief pressed to his cut.

The infirmary is cool, the greenish fluorescent lights – reminiscent of hospital lighting from zombie apocalypse movies – reflecting eerily off of the immaculately clean floor. A girl who looks just a little bit older than him glances up when he comes in and smiles anxiously. “H-h-hello,” she says, pinching a strand of purplish hair between her fingers. “C-can I…h-help you?”

He holds his hand out. “Are you the nurse? I just need a bandage. I cut my finger on a piece of paper.”

She nods fervently and hurries over to a cabinet, where she pulls out a tiny box of bandage and some antibiotic ointment. She grabs his wrist, and when he tries to pull away, her grip is surprisingly strong. “I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself,” he says.

“I-I’m sorry!” she looks up at him with something akin to terror, and he’s surprised at the strength of the emotion. He’s not the nicest guy, but he can’t imagine what he did to produce this sort of reaction from her. “B-b-b-but…I am a nurse?” Her grayish brown eyes are wide and plaintive, looking to him for permission.

He sighs. “Whatever. Just make it quick.”

She nods and carefully squeezes a healthy dollop of ointment onto the cut, wrapping it tightly in the bandage. “Done!”

He nods at her. “Thank you.”

She gasps, and then beams. “You’re welcome!” she squeaks happily.

He nods slowly, eyebrows lifted, and turns around to leave, but he’s stopped short when he bumps into someone. He steps back. “You’d do well to watch where you’re going,” he says coolly.

The smaller boy looks up from his phone and blinks up at him with wide, alarmed eyes, his lips parting slightly in astonishment, but he remains silent.

Byakuya is starting to feel like he’s surrounded by oddities. “Hello? Do you talk?”

The boy looks down at his phone and bites his lip, the same nervous hesitation – almost embarrassment – from earlier written plainly across his face.

Byakuya taps a finger against the corner of his jaw. “Fine. I have things to do anyway.” He brushes past and out into the hallway, but something – he can’t fathom what – makes him look back over his shoulder. The boy is watching him, his eyes narrowed in interest, and the shrewd intelligence in his expression takes Byakuya off guard, a dramatic change from the fearful self-consciousness of a moment ago.

_Huh._ Byakuya looks back in front of him with a smirk. “See you in class.” The sound of they boy’s thumbs tapping at his phone screen follow him quietly out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I just wanted to say that Rio is totally my own invention, and she won't take from the story at all, but when I tried to write them in the classroom I realized I didn't know who their teacher had been. So. Rio was born. But I promise she won't be too important. I hope that puts those of you who aren't huge fans of OC's at ease.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Byakuya makes sure to set his alarm an hour early so that he can deal with his blazer. Class starts at 8:15. Breakfast is at six. He wants to go by the library before class and get some books, maybe read a few there.

He’s already awake at five o’clock when his alarm clock blares, its incessant siren-like noise filling the room and making him wince as he slams his hand down on the snooze button with brutal ferocity. The sudden silence that ensues is almost as deafening. Sighing, he pushes the thick blue comforter back and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on his elbows over his head in a long, luxurious stretch as he listens to the pops of his joints.

Once he’s suitably awake, he stands and goes to his bag. He still has to put everything in his dresser, but that’s a chore for another time. He brought far more than he probably needed, and he’s dreading having to take it all out and relocate it in the stout oak bureau allocated to him by the school. He pulls out his second uniform and quickly disrobes, replacing his nightclothes with the dark tan blazer and slacks and the white button-up shirt. The buttons are easier this time; now that he knows how they work, it’s a simple matter of keeping tight control of both the fabric and little circles of brass. He looks at his watch when he finishes. 5:30. He’s much earlier than he thought, but he supposes that early is better than late. It’s certainly a relief not to be bustling around with the same urgency and panic as yesterday morning. Maybe he should walk around some more, see what else the school offers him. But, then again, it’s such a big school that he’s not sure how productive only thirty minutes would be.

But maybe he’ll see the short, quiet boy again? The weird one. He dispels the thought the moment it ventures tentatively into his consciousness. He could care less about whether or not he ever sees him again. As intriguing as he finds him.

Byakuya shrugs, grabs his key, and walks out anyway, unsure what he’s doing but resigning himself to wandering aimlessly until six if he has to. The Ultimate Detective – Kyouko, he thinks – is leaving her room as well, and she gives him a solemn nod before turning and walking away in the opposite direction. She seems like possibly the only other sane person in their class.

He turns away and wanders down the hallway. He left the map in his room, but he made sure yesterday that he more or less memorized the layout of the school.

He hears an exasperated yell, and he looks back to see a pair of older boys running down the hallway, holding hands, a tall one with frizzy white hair smiling and dragging the flustered-looking brunette past Byakuya and into the locker room. “Wait! Nagito! I’m in the Reserve Course, I can’t…” The guy’s voice trails off. Byakuya raises an eyebrow. Don’t they know this is a school, not a public park?

As six approaches and he walks around a bit more, the hallways fill with students of various ages, and he feels a bit overstimulated surrounded by so much noise and so many bright colors. One girl bumps into him on accident because she’s too busy fiddling with some sort of handheld console to look where she’s going. A couple of times he gets a couple of dark looks when he doesn’t return a greeting or smile. By the time six rolls around and he hurries to the cafeteria, his mind is so full of pieces of others’ conversations and screeches of excited girls that he’s not sure he’ll ever have room for anything else again.

Breakfast is fairly uneventful, and he manages to score a secluded spot in the corner so he can eat by himself, although he’s joined after a few minutes by Kyouko. They don’t make any conversation. They simply eat their food, allowing their silent agreement to hang in the air between them in place of words: _We aren’t friends. We just need space._ The food is incredible, better than anything his chef makes at home. When he finishes he wipes his lips with his napkin and pushes away from the table…and is promptly accosted by a violet-haired girl who asks his name repeatedly, almost frantically. He knows he saw her at orientation yesterday, but he can’t remember her name. He quickly excuses himself from their very one-sided conversation and leaves the cafeteria.

He kills the remaining time before class starts in the library, immersing himself in case files from the deeds of serial killers in Victorian England, and he’s already making his way to the classroom by the time the first bell rings. God forbid he allows himself to be even a second late again.

A young, bright-eyed female teacher is waiting eagerly for her students, and she nearly squeals in delight when she sees him come in and choose a desk by the window, near the back. “Hello!” she squeaks. “You must be…don’t tell me…” She chews her lip and then snaps her fingers, a grin spreading across her face. “Kiyotaka Ishimaru!”

He snorts and rests his chin on his hand. “Don’t confuse me with that dolt.”

She frowns in disappointment and goes back to thinking as he drums his fingers on the desk with impatience. He’s eager to get started and he doesn’t know how the rest of his class is still missing less than a minute before the bell is supposed to ring.

Speak of the devil. Its harsh tone blasts from the intercom just as Kyouko and Hiro stroll in.

“Byakuya Togami!” the teacher says excitedly, pointing at Byakuya with a triumphant grin.

“Yes.”

She pumps a fist in the air in victory and flips her dark brown bangs out of her face. Calming down, she surveys her measly class. “So I suppose you three are the only ones who didn’t get the memo?” She smiles. “Great!”

“Memo?” Kyouko asks, frowning.

“Oh…um, well, technically, you aren’t required to attend as a student of the main course, as long as you pass the exams.”

“What?” Hiro stares at her and, after a beat, begins tossing everything he’d gotten out of his bag back in. “Dude, if this isn’t required, then I’m out! See you!” he races out the doors, and the teacher’s gaze drops.

She sticks her bottom lip out. “You two, I suppose.”

The noise of pounding footsteps echoes in from the hallway, and Byakuya looks over just as the boy from yesterday hurtles into the room, panting, his books held tightly to his chest as he looks up at the clock. He gives the teacher an apologetic look and takes the seat beside Byakuya.

She beams at him. “You _are_ here!”

He glances down at his phone, then back up, and he nods.

She gestures to him and looks at Byakuya and Kyouko. “It’s a shame the rest of your class isn’t here, but I’m glad you all are! This is Makoto Naegi. Have either of you talked to him yet?” Makoto’s gaze is trained on his hands folded on his desk, rubbing at the base of his thumb. He doesn’t look that happy to be the center of attention.

“Talked _at_ him,” Byakuya says quietly.

“Yeah…” she agrees. “He’s something of a special case. I don’t know if you two have already figured it out, but he’s deaf.”

_Huh?_ Byakuya looks Makoto up and down with renewed interest as he taps the heel of his bright red Converse against the leg of his chair. He should have figured that out. It makes sense now, his insistent silence, his clear discomfort at being involved in any sort of conversation. Makoto glances down at his phone, and he nods slowly before waving sheepishly at Kyouko and Byakuya. Kyouko gives him a small smile, and Byakuya simply studies him, his head cocked.

“I had the pleasure of talking with him yesterday. He can speak with his phone, but he doesn’t like using it, so if either of you know sign language, it would be great if you could communicate with him like that.” She smiles at Makoto. “But enough with singling you out, right?”

He sighs with relief and grins at her.

Kyouko looks back at Makoto from her seat and signs something. Byakuya frowns. He remembers his brief sign language lessons from his childhood, and he knows the alphabet, but he’s never known any actual words. Makoto’s pale green eyes brighten and his hands move rapidly. She blinks in surprise, and then turns back around, nodding to herself.

The teacher laughs. “Oh! By the way, I’m Rio Kobayashi. I’m really excited to be your teacher! And…if you could maybe try to convince a couple of your classmates to actually come to class for me, that would be great! I love teaching, and the more the merrier! I’m an alum, and I was the Ultimate Lucky Student, just like our friend Makoto here!”

Ultimate…Lucky Student? He raises an eyebrow at her and Makoto. Is that even a talent? Beside him, Makoto gives him a little self-conscious smile.

“But anyway! I’d say it’s time to start teaching, huh? Alright!” she spins around to face the blackboard, seizes a piece of chalk, and starts writing.

 

Byakuya feels like they’ve hardly begun class when the bell rings, and Rio jumps in surprise and beams at them. “Whoops, I lost track of time. Looks like it’s your free time! Feel free to spend it how you like. Class will resume at twelve thirty!”

Kyouko walks off briskly, her eyes gleaming with purpose, and Byakuya is standing up to follow her when Makoto taps him on the shoulder. Byakuya looks at him. “Make it quick.”

Makoto looks down at his phone, and to his surprise, Byakuya can see his own words displayed on the screen. Makoto nods and signs something. Byakuya frowns and shakes his head. “You’re going to have to either spell it or say it with your phone, however that works.”

Another glance at the screen, and he sighs and nods, typing something in. “What is your name?” says a metallic-sounding, monotone voice.

Byakuya quirks down one corner of his mouth. He can see why Makoto wouldn’t like using his phone’s voice, or at least why other people wouldn’t like it. He signs his name, and Makoto nods, typing again. “Do you want to hang out with me for a little while? I don’t have anything to do.”

Byakuya shakes his head. “What makes you think I would want to spend time with you? Your schedule may be free, but I’m the heir to the Togami Conglomerate. I’m busy.” With finality, he slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves the room, ignoring the disappointed frown on Makoto’s face.

The boy has so much time and so little purpose it seems he doesn’t know what to do with himself. While Byakuya might have lied a little bit – he’ll probably just spend all of his time in the library, and he may or may not go get some food at some point – he doesn’t want to get caught hanging around someone like that.

Ultimate Lucky Student. That’s a load of bullshit if he’s ever heard one. Luck is not a talent. Luck doesn’t even exist. The kid is just an ordinary guy that got into the school by pure chance, without even a talent to his name but without the hefty expenses paid by Reserve Course students.

And people say Byakuya is privileged.

But some tiny part of him is curious what would’ve happened if he’d said yes. Somehow, knowing that he’s just an average person makes him all the more interesting, because there’s something about him that just doesn’t seem average at all.

Whatever. He slumps into the chair in the library again and pulls one of the books he borrowed earlier out of his bag, cracking it open and resting his cheek on his fist.

Makoto comes in a moment later, and Byakuya can feel his gaze on him as he moves past into the dark rows of bookshelves behind him. He sits down at a table a little ways away, and while they both try to pretend they don’t notice, they both cast intermittent glances at each other, and look away the minute they lock eyes.

_What are you thinking?_ Byakuya wants to ask.

But they’ve got the rest of their high school lives to figure each other out, and figure each other out they will, Byakuya decides.

What else are they supposed to do with all of this free time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!   
> If there's something you liked or thought I could've done better, please let me know in the comments! I really appreciate any feedback you have to give me!  
> Also...I don't know if any of you have read my Komahina work, but I'm currently doing a song request series that's completely open to any pairing or character(s). If you've got a song that you feel fits someone or some pairing - Naegami included! - I'd be more than happy to write to it! Let me know if you've got anything!   
> Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Byakuya leans against the trunk of a tree, listening to the branches and leaves whip around above his head. Swollen, dark gray clouds race across the sky, off to find somewhere to dump their watery cargo, and he tugs his things closer protectively, his knees bent and his muscles tensed to bolt for the school at the first sign of a storm. Nevertheless, he has no intention of going inside if he doesn’t have to. The windswept campus is deserted, the grass waving tall and straight as if grateful not to have any feet tromping all over it. The thick hiss of the wind is a far cry from the chaos of the hallways, and Byakuya relishes it, feeling it rush coarsely past his cheeks and flatten his clothes against his body, wishing he could stay here forever. He’s sure Miss Kobayashi will understand if he doesn’t go to class today. She always seems surprised when any of them show up, anyway. Barring Makoto. He never seems to even want to skip.

Maybe he feels like he needs to compensate for his pathetic “talent.”

He’s really not a very exciting boy, Byakuya’s discovered. He has no clue what he found so intriguing about the kid, really; Makoto is the epitome of average, despite being deaf. He’s nice to everyone. He’s not exceptionally smart or exceptionally stupid. He’s not talented at all – because luck doesn’t count – but he doesn’t suck at anything, either. And while he certainly isn’t unattractive, loathe as Byakuya is to admit it, that’s really his only redeeming quality. He’s optimistic as all hell, which he supposes is sort of endearing, but it’s also infuriating.

He needs to stop thinking like this. Endearing? Not unattractive? He’s not supposed to notice when guys are hot.

Not that Makoto is hot.

_Cute might be a better word,_ some part of his brain pipes up. _Shut up,_ he hisses. _You know it’s true,_ the little voice replies.

He does know it’s true. But that doesn’t mean he can’t deny it until the day he dies.

His book blows open against his leg, and he presses it closed again, picking it up and slipping it into his bag with a sigh. He should really stop thinking about this.

As a faint shadow falls over him, he looks up in surprise to see Makoto trudging past, arms up to shield his face against the wind. He flops down onto the grass not two feet away from Byakuya and gives him a little anxious smile.

Byakuya barely stops himself from saying, “Think of the devil.” That would be weird. “What do you want?” he asks curtly instead, sighing.

Makoto shakes his head and holds up his phone for Byakuya to see. A couple of garbled words, completely incomprehensible, are displayed at the top of the screen, followed by a lot of f’s and s’s. _W-I-N-D,_ Makoto spells out.

Byakuya huffs and looks away. He feels a tap at his shoulder, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Another tap. He slowly turns his head to look at Makoto. _Y-O-U-R-E-S-T-I-L-L-H-E-R-E,_ he signs.

Makoto sighs exasperatedly and taps rapidly at the screen of his phone, and when he turns it to Byakuya, it’s open to a notebook app. _Why don’t you want me here?_

_W-H-Y-W-O-U-L-D-I._

_Fair enough, I guess…do you have a cell phone? You’ve got to, you’re a Togami._

_I-D-O-N-T-S-E-E-W-H-Y-I-S-H-O-U-L-D-G-E-T-I-T-O-U-T-S-I-N-C-E-Y-O-U-R-E-L-E-A-V-I-N-G._

_I have no clue what you were just trying to say._

Reluctantly, Byakuya digs through his bag for his own cell phone and types a message. _There, I got it out. If you’re quite satisfied, I’m busy enjoying my_ quiet _time. Surely I don’t need to define that word for you._

_Alright, alright, I’ll leave. Just one question. Will you go out with me?_

If Byakuya had a drink, he would spit it out right now. Probably all over Makoto’s clothes. _Will I WHAT_

_Go out with me?_ A faint rosy blush has dusted itself across Makoto’s face.

Byakuya’s too taken aback for a moment to even respond, and then he shakes his head, probably a little too vehemently.

Makoto shrugs like that’s what he was expecting. He clambers to his feet and hoists his bag onto his shoulder, moving off to find his own place to relax.

Byakuya stares after him, his mouth dry, and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat and his fingertips, but he can’t fathom why.

What the hell?

 

When the last bell rings, dismissing class for the day, Byakuya knows that soon, he’ll be joined by plenty of his peers, ready to brave the dying wind at the end of the day if only to get a glimpse of the sky and a breath of fresh air before they go to bed. Looks like it’s time for him to leave. Reluctantly, he pushes everything into his bag and pushes up onto his feet, heading for the building.

Warm air rushes past him as he opens the door, a shock to his skin after hours of frigid wind, and he shudders making his way to the cafeteria. He has no plans to stay there for dinner, but as he walks away with a plate of food, he hears someone call his name. He turns to see Makoto, Sayaka, Leon, and an upperclassman whose name he thinks is Nagito waving him over. He stalks toward their table. “Yes?”

“Makoto told us to get your attention,” Sayaka says with a friendly smile.

He looks at Makoto with a raised eyebrow. “I hope you don’t think asking me out again after two or three hours will be more successful.” Sayaka blinks and a big smile spreads across her face, and Leon snorts, stifling a laugh with his hand. Nagito is unaffected.

After a brief glance at his phone, Makoto shakes his head and types into his phone. “Where were you going?” it drones apathetically.

“And I should answer that…why?”

Makoto shrugs. “Sit with us.”

“I’m busy.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Leon says. “The kid wants you to sit with us. And we all know you can’t be all that busy. You’re at school. Surely your dear ol’ dad isn’t handing the business over to you quite yet, right?”

“I don’t need to justify my life to you. I am busy.”

“Just sit with us, man. If we bore you, you can leave. Okay? Makoto likes you. Humor him for a little bit.”

The tips of Makoto’s ears burn red. He signs urgently to Leon, who laughs. “He wants me to clarify that I don’t mean ‘like’ in that way. He asked you out because you’re interesting and he wants to know you better.”

Byakuya hesitates, and Makoto looks up at him uncertainly, a thin sheaf of light brown hair tumbling in front of his right eye and his cheeks flushed a faint pink. He adjusts his hoodie self-consciously. Byakuya sighs and sets his plate down, sliding into the seat beside Nagito. “If you become too dull, I’m leaving immediately.”

“That’s fair!” Sayaka says.

Nagito beams at Byakuya. “It’s a wonder to meet you, Byakuya Togami! It’s always wonderful to make the acquaintance of such fantastically talented Ultimates…”

“Dude, don’t be creepy.” Leon twirls his fork in the air, his cheek resting on his hand.

Nagito blinks in surprise, then scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Was I doing it again?”

Sayaka and Leon nod simultaneously.

Nagito signs something to Makoto. Makoto laughs and signs back. Nagito looks over at Byakuya. “You don’t know sign language?”

“I…no. I don’t. You do?”

“There was a deaf girl in my second grade class and we were all required to learn, and it’s pretty useful when I want to communicate with few other people knowing what I’m saying, so I’ve kept up with it, I suppose? Not that I’m any good at it…”

Sayaka nods. “Kyouko is a good friend of mine, and I heard through her that Makoto would be in our class. I learned a little when he and I went to school together before Hope’s Peak, but I brushed up on it before school started. And Leon’s a fast learner, so Kyouko and I have been teaching him.” She clears her throat almost daintily. “So…Makoto asked you out?” she asks.

Makoto has been following the conversations closely on his phone, and now he freezes with a forkful of rice halfway to his mouth. He shakes his head fervently, his hands moving at lightning speed. She chuckles and waves at him placatingly. “It’s okay, Makoto! Nobody cares. Nagito has a boyfriend, and you know I’ve been out with both genders.”

He buries his head in his hands, his face burning a vivid shade of red.

Sayaka laughs and turns back to Byakuya. “He’s always been like this. He’s adorable.”

_He is,_ he agrees before he can stop himself. For a heart-wrenching moment he’s afraid he said it out loud, but her placid expression doesn’t change. “So he asked you out?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And you said no?”

“Yes.”

“So you said yes?”

“No. I said no.”

“Then why’d you say yes?”

“For all your half-witted enthusiasm I’m beginning to suspect you’re trying to get me to leave.”

“She’s just messing with you.” Leon grins. “Why’d you say no?”

“I hardly feel like that’s any of your business.”

“Aw, come on. You don’t have to be such a douche.”

“A _what?”_

“Leon! Don’t be mean!”

“Sorry!”

Byakuya sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose, closing his eyes exasperatedly. “We don’t speak. I don’t know him. How could someone of my status enter into any sort of relationship with someone I don’t even know?”

Nagito frowns. “Don’t elites like you usually marry into arranged marriages to people you may or may not actually know?” he points out.

Byakuya lifts his chin a little. “Sometimes, but not always. And did you even consider the fact that I may not be homosexual?”

Leon bursts out laughing. “I don’t mean any offense, but dude, you’re totally gay.” He shovels food into his mouth as if trying to avoid having to explain himself.

What?

…What?

Byakuya makes a growling noise in his throat and stands, taking his food with him. “I’m leaving.”

“I hope you enjoy your meal,” Sayaka says, elbowing Leon, who’s slumped over, half-laughing, half-choking on his mouthful.

He gives her a curt nod and walks off, but someone taps at his shoulder as he hurries down the hallway, trying not to show that Leon’s remark actually got to him. Is it that obvious? He turns to see Makoto, who’s holding up his phone and wincing with embarrassment. _I’m sorry about my friends. Please go out with me? I want to get to know you better. No one has to know, if you don’t want._

“No,” he snaps. Makoto’s eyes follow the movement of his lips, and the smaller boy nods dejectedly, plodding back into the cafeteria.

Byakuya makes his way to his room and sits down heavily on his bed. It would’ve been okay if it had just been about him denying the advances of his male classmate. It would’ve been okay if everything he didn’t want everyone to know had just stayed in his head for no one else to ever find out. But if a dimwit like Leon can figure it out that easily…he shudders to think what would happen if this ever got out. He’ll have to talk to Leon.

But even as stressed as the whole exchange made him, he feels strangely happy. He can’t fathom why.

But, despite himself, he can't help but hope that Makoto doesn’t give up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!   
> This one will probably be less of a slow build than most of the stuff I write...but I hope you'll like it anyway! It's a lot of fun to write!  
> As always, if there's something you liked or you thought I could've done better, please let me know! Any feedback is appreciated!  
> If you have a song you'd like me to write to for my songfic series, for any pairing(s) or character(s), I'd love to hear it! I love doing requests. And if there's something you'd like to see from this story, tell me! I'm game for almost anything, and I'd be honored to write something for someone who likes my fic enough to suggest something!  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!  
> So I know it's been a while since I last updated...I was planning to post this chapter and then go on hiatus for all of November - so I would've let you know - but then I didn't finish and I haven't had any time to write for National Novel Writing Month anyway, so...yeah. But I'm back! I've sort of already given up on finishing the novel I'm doing for NaNoWriMo so I'll likely post a lot more. It's only November 12th and I already miss my gay sons. I hope you like this chapter!

Everyone in Byakuya’s class has been avoiding him lately. Even more than usual, that is. And he can’t deny that it’s probably warranted; he can’t think of a single time this last week where the very act of being spoken to didn't make him want to strangle and/or sue the person speaking to him.

His own irritability is warranted as well, though, he thinks. Makoto has asked him out, counting that initial time, a grand total of thirteen times, and Byakuya has found himself wanting to say yes more than once. It’s danced enticingly at the tip of his tongue before he’s reeled it back, swallowed it down, and barked out a resolute “No.”

He looks sleepily around the room, rubbing one eye beneath his glasses. He can tell that they’re tilted, but he doesn’t care enough to fix them. Despite his determination not to let Makoto get under his skin, he can feel the boy’s presence at the back of his mind in everything he does. It’s infuriating. No matter how roughly he shoves him out, replacing him with something else far more important, he wriggles in somewhere new, waving at Byakuya with that adorable carefree smile, his brown hair messy and unruly as it sticks out all over the place, his green eyes bright, his tiny uniform-clad figure contrasting starkly with the vivid blue autumn sky…

Byakuya shakes his head and pushes up from his pillow. It’s too early in the morning for this.

Books on sign language are strewn haphazardly across the top of his dresser, many of them open, and when he opens his phone to see if he’s gotten any texts, Safari is running, displaying the end of a long article about nonverbal communication. He quickly closes it. He’s just about to set his phone back on his nightstand and go back to sleep – it’s a weekend, so he figures he might as well sleep in – when it vibrates, almost slipping out of his limp, bleary grasp. Frowning, he holds the screen up close to his face and taps on the new text message. Unknown number. His frown deepens.

_Hi, Byakuya! Sorry to text you so early in the morning. I’m not sure whether or not you’re a morning person. Oh! This is Makoto, by the way. I got your number from Kyouko. I promise I’m not being creepy…Whoops. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t be texting you. Oh well. I was wondering if you wanted to head off campus for a few hours and get breakfast and walk around for a little while. It doesn’t have to be date if you don’t want it to. I just want to know you better._

Byakuya rubs his hand down his face, letting it fall to his lap. Makoto never gives up. And now he has his number? _No,_ he’s typing before he even thinks about it, but his thumb hovers uncertainly over the “Send” button. It doesn’t have to be a date if he doesn’t want it to. Makoto just wants to get to know him. _Whatever. I’ll be in front at –_ he checks the time _– 7:15. If you’re not there the moment I leave the building, I’m not going with you._

He stands and dresses quickly, glad to wear his favorite suit instead of the tacky brown school uniform. It’s 7:10. He hooks his fingers into the backs of his shoes to tug them on, straightens his glasses, and rushes out. He doubles back to lock the door, and then continues through the school to the entrance hall. He pushes the door open, blinking at the bright sunlight that floods his vision, and squints ahead to see Makoto leaning against the gate. Instead of his uniform, he’s wearing a black blazer that looks just a bit too small for him, and he’s got the same damn hoodie zipped closed beneath it. He taps the toe of his bright red Converse against the cracked pavement, adjusting his hands nervously in his pockets. His black jeans stretch tightly over his slender legs, the hem at the back tattered and worn. He looks up and smiles anxiously as he spots Byakuya. He waves.

 _You’re on time,_ Byakuya signs, and Makoto’s eyes widen in delight. He nods happily.

_You’ve been practicing!_

Byakuya nods and walks past him, pushing through the gate and waiting on the sidewalk. _Where are we going?_

_Wherever you want!_

_You invited me. I expected you to have a plan._

_I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to, though._

_Do you have a plan?_

There’s a pause. _No._

 _Of course you don’t. Alright._ He sighs. He can’t go anywhere his family frequents, because they might get the wrong idea if they see him out with a boy – or, really, the right idea, at least about his sexuality, but that’s even more disastrous – but there are a couple of places he hasn’t been to here. _Then follow me, I suppose. And this isn’t a date._

They end up at a little out-of-the-way bed and breakfast, situated at the end of a narrow residential drive, a good half hour walk from Hope’s Peak. It’s not Byakuya’s style, but he could swear he saw his mother and father across the street at one point while he and Makoto were walking, and he can’t deny that he was fairly spooked. Under no circumstances will he let himself be spotted by anyone affiliated with his family. Ultimately, he decided to go somewhere he knew they wouldn’t run into anyone who even recognized his face.

Makoto looks up at him in surprise, but Byakuya waves vaguely toward him and goes in, looking around. White gossamer curtains flap against old metal window frames, and the wooden tables look cheap, sporting random lines of marker and trails of paint probably made by small children. A black piano sits against the wall in the corner, its keys covered and the gold paint chipped on its pedals. A girl in a pale pink shirt and knee-length white skirt darts around the room, wiping the tables down with a rag.

Makoto follows him in. _This is nice._

Nice? Compared to most of the places Byakuya has eaten, this place is decrepit. But despite that, it’s almost…cozy.

Who is he anymore?

The girl notices them, and her brown eyes light up in excitement. “Hi! Hello! Um…would you like a table? You’re here early! I know we open at six, but we don’t usually get customers until eight or nine. Even the people staying here don’t wake up until then.”

“Yes,” Byakuya says, pressing his lips together into a thin line.

She nods emphatically and practically bounces over to a two-person table by a window. “I’ll go get some menus!” she chirps, and scampers off.

Byakuya sits down, and Makoto follows suit and grins at him. _Thank you for agreeing to hang out with me for a little while!_

_Yes. But keep in mind that I only came because I didn’t have anything better to do. Like I said earlier, this is not a date._

Makoto nods, but there’s no exasperation in it, like Byakuya expected. _I know! Of course, if you change your mind…_ He lifts his shoulders.

Byakuya rolls his eyes. _Not going to happen._

_Sounds good._

The girl comes back and places their menus in front of them. “I’ll be around, once you’re ready to order!” she says, and she’s off again. She could be a professional maid; she darts around like a hummingbird, paying close attention to every detail.

They look over the menus, and Byakuya sneers. There’s nothing here that even looks remotely good. He knows why he chose to come here, but…he wishes he could’ve picked somewhere else. Makoto’s big green eyes practically gleam with enthusiasm, and he licks his lips several times. He looks back up at Byakuya. _Did she want us to only figure out our drinks or are we ordering everything?_

_She didn’t say. I don’t think I’ll eat anything._

_What? Come on, you should at least try something._

_No. It all looks bad._

_You don’t eat at places like this most of the time, do you?_

The room is beginning to fill with sleepy couples ready to start their day, and a couple of them cast amused glances at Byakuya and Makoto. The former can feel his face getting red, and he does his best to ignore them, drumming his fingertips against the table rapidly, but he can feel their gazes on him.

Makoto frowns. _You okay?_

_Yes. Let’s just order._

Byakuya waves down the girl again, and she stands at attention, notepad in her hands, as she waits for them to tell her what they want. _Steak and potato hash, and orange soda,_ Makoto signs.

_Orange soda? For breakfast?_

Makoto blushes lightly. _Is there something wrong with that?_

Byakuya sighs exaggeratedly, forgetting that the noise is lost on Makoto, and turns to the girl. “Two steak and potato hashes. He’ll have orange soda. I’ll have coffee.”

“Any cream and sugar with that?” she asks dutifully, scribbling quickly.

“Of course not.”

“I’ll be right back!” She scurries away into the kitchen. A couple more staff members have joined her now, and they hurry left and right, taking the orders of the other customers.

Byakuya meets Makoto’s eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. _So you wanted to know me better. Anything in particular?_ he asks, keeping tabs on everyone else out of the corner of his eye.

_Not really…actually, maybe! What’s your favorite color?_

_Blue. Is that it?_

Makoto nods and leans his cheek on his hand.

_So you asked me to clear my schedule for a couple of hours and come eat breakfast with you off campus just so you could ask me what my favorite color is?_

He nods again. The girl sets their drinks on the table, and he immediately takes the straw for the soda in his mouth, sipping at it as he watches Byakuya.

_And here I was thinking you were the most normal person in our class, besides me._

Makoto laughs. Byakuya watches him, mouth half open in shock; the sound is more of a staccato roar than a laugh. The moment Makoto sees him, he freezes, looking away, his face turning red in embarrassment. _I guess you_ _haven’t heard my voice yet. Sorry,_ he signs without meeting Byakuya’s eyes.

Byakuya pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When Makoto finally glances back at him, he signs, _I don’t care, dimwit._

Makoto tilts his head in confusion. _You don’t?_

_No. It’s none of my business what you sound like when you make noise._

Makoto’s face lights up, his usual infuriatingly innocent smile spreading across his face, and he pushes his bangs away from his forehead happily. _You’re actually sort of nice!_

 _I never said that,_ Byakuya signs indignantly.

_Byakuya, that’s a compliment!_

Oh. He blinks, unsure how to react.

 _Most people say thank you to compliments,_ Makoto prompts.

_No._

Makoto snorts. _Well, maybe next time?_

_No. Drink your soda._

Makoto shrugs and nods, sipping at his drink through the straw, the ice clinking against the inside of his glass as it settles on the bottom. He’ll need a refill soon.

 

The food is surprisingly good. Not top quality or anything, but good. They stay at the little bed and breakfast until well after ten and then head back to school. A couple of times, Makoto’s hand brushes Byakuya’s, and Byakuya feels an odd urge to hold it, but he resists.

 _That was fun!_ Makoto signs when they slip back into the doors to Hope’s Peak, walking toward their dorm rooms.

Byakuya nods, but, realizing what he’s doing, tries to pass it off as a shake of his head. Judging by the elated glimmer in Makoto’s eyes, the smaller boy isn’t fooled. _I will not deny that it was a much different experience than others I’ve had. Most of the time I only go out like that for business alongside my father._

_I hope you don’t just see me as a business venture?_

_No. I don’t._

Makoto beams. _We should do this again! I’m actually sort of late, I promised to go swimming with Hina fifteen minutes ago, so I should probably go, but I’ll text you again._

 _Please don’t,_ Byakuya signs, but Makoto’s already half-jogging down the hall in the direction of the stairs. Byakuya watches him go, then turns and pulls open the door to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again!  
> As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, please let me know in the comments! I always appreciate feedback of any kind.  
> And if you have a song you'd like me to write to for any pairing(s) or character(s) from Dangan Ronpa, I'd love to hear it! I'll do almost anything you guys suggest, so if you've got something you're looking for, tell me! And that goes for this story, too. Send me any requests you'd like! Whether you've always wanted to read a fic about the Naegamis, I dunno, playing Mystic Messenger or something, or you think I should visit another character more, or you've got suggestions on how to improve the writing or the story, I'm all ears! Thank you so much for reading, guys. I know I don't have a whole lot of readers, but I'm honored to have the ones I do, and I love you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

Not dates, not dates, not-dates. Byakuya finds them piling up around him, packing every blank space in the calendar on his phone that he would usually reserve for rest, but somehow, they're just as therapeutic as sleep and reading to him. He's started to look forward to picking up his cell phone every morning and seeing a new text from Makoto, a new invitation to do something, to go somewhere, to spend time together.  _ Hi, Byakuya! Good morning! I know I should technically be saying good night, but you're probably asleep right now...I really shouldn't be staying up this late but I'm playing video games with Chihiro, Chiaki, and Nagito. Of course I'm losing horribly, but you know. Want to hang out again tomorrow - or today, when you'll read this?  _

He should know by now that of course Byakuya will say yes. He's steadily perfecting his sign language with the help of entirely too many instruction books and Makoto’s corrections. He's discovered that his first impression of Makoto was completely wrong. That nervous, uneasy, painfully quiet boy hardly exists now, replaced with a bright spirit full of hopeful energy and enthusiasm. He's awkward and clumsy but he's always ready to laugh it off and move on. He doesn't even fault Byakuya for being rude and abrasive, and seems to just accept him for who he is. It's a bit of a shock to Byakuya every time Makoto smiles at him. 

Byakuya lies on his bed now and holds his phone straight above him at arm’s length. Another morning, another text from Makoto. He types his acceptance of the invitation without even a thought and goes into his calendar to mark it. 

Immediately, he sits bolt upright, staring in horror at his schedule. A thick red band stretches across the exact time slot he planned to put Makoto down for.  _ Dinner with parents _ glares at him in bold black letters, and he glares back.  _ Shit.  _

He completely forgot. He can feel anxiety tighten into a painful knot in the pit of his stomach. His parents wanted to check up on him over dinner. Knowing them, all he has to look forward to is a night of awkward silences punctuated with sharp, demanding questions concerning his grades, the people he spends time with on a regular basis, his health, his reputation among his classmates, etc. In many ways, Hope’s Peak and Makoto have been a godsend for him. He’d almost forgotten what life at home is like. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily in resignation. 

His phone vibrates. Makoto.  _ Awesome! I can't wait!  _ A selfie of him grinning wide, two fingers held up in a peace sign. 

Byakuya feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as guilt and dread tangle their icy fingers in his ribcage. He doesn't want to cancel. He feels bad for accepting in the first place and forgetting about his parents. But at the same time...he knows his parents will have a fit if he tries to postpone their dinner. He bites the tip of his tongue uncertainly. 

He sighs and nods. What the hell. He's managed without his parents for months now. No contact and now they want to have dinner with him on a day he'd rather be spending time with Makoto? He opens the phone app and calls them. He's cancelling on them. He'll be damned if they're going to get in the way of his afternoon with his friend. 

As the phone rings and rings, he crosses his fingers, hoping desperately that they don't pick up, that he can just resolve this without even talking to them. But, of course, on the last ring, there's a quiet click and his father’s voice comes over the line. “Byakuya.”

“Father.”

“What do you need?”

He takes a deep breath. “I can't have dinner with you tonight. I'm busy.”

There's a long, long pause. “I'm sorry to hear that.” But there’s an edge to the words, almost a threat. “With what, might I ask?”

Damn it. He did not prepare for this. He knew he would probably get a question like this but he doesn't know what he could possibly say to get them to leave him alone. “I have a date,” he finds himself blurting. The moment he says it, his eyes widen, and he smacks himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. 

“A date?” There's no mistaking the unveiled astonishment in his father’s voice. 

No going back now. “Yes, a date. So I'm afraid I can't come tonight.”

“What is her name?”

He clears his throat. “Er...Kyouko.” 

“Why don't you invite her? We would love to meet her.”

Shit! “No,” he says quickly. “It's our...month anniversary, and it's very important to her - and me - that we spend it with just us.”

“Shame. Well, I'll be looking forward to meeting her on Sunday night instead.”

“Sunday…?”

“Yes. I'm sure you understand. Now that you have a girlfriend, it is especially imperative that we meet both of you for dinner. I look forward to seeing you then, hm?”

“Um…” Byakuya sighs. “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye.” The phone promptly beeps. His father has hung up. 

Shit, shit, shit!

 

Makoto waves a hand in front of Byakuya’s face, breaking him out of his thoughts. Makoto’s brow is furrowed, a cream soda sweating in his hand, his mouth stuffed with what should probably be several bites worth of corndog.  _ You okay? _ he asks, pausing in the doorway to the museum. 

Byakuya shakes his head roughly and blinks. “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Makoto frowns, tilting his head, and begrudgingly fishes in his pocket for his phone.  _ I can’t hear you, remember? _

Duh. Before Makoto can get his phone out, Byakuya sighs and repeats himself in signs. 

Makoto shrugs and backs out of the way so an elderly couple can get past him.  _ I don’t know, you just seem really out of it. You’re not yourself. _

_ Whatever. Let’s just go. _

_ But -  _

Byakuya brushes past him, forcing Makoto to trail after him uncertainly. “Excuse me, sir,” a voice calls, and Byakuya looks up to see the receptionist watching Makoto, who, obviously, doesn’t hear her. “No food allowed in here.”

Makoto continues obliviously munching on his corndog.

“Sir!” the receptionist barks. “In the black hoodie! Listen to people when they talk to you.”

“He’s deaf,” Byakuya says slightly defensively. 

Her eyes widen. “Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Can you tell him what I said?”

_ Makoto, you can’t eat that in here.  _

Makoto looks up at him with an expression of heartbreaking disappointment. Byakuya almost wants to tell the receptionist to fuck off, until Makoto exhales with a huff and throws his corndog away. He sips at the last of the slushie and tosses it in the trash as well. Byakuya pays for them both, and they both continue into the museum. The light greenish white walls stretch high above their heads, eager children clustered around the interactive exhibits near the entrance, presumably placed there so the receptionist can keep an eye on them. Makoto flits between the more brightly colored paintings hanging from the walls, and Byakuya follows more slowly. At one point, Makoto turns to him and smiles.  _ How about this time? Is this a date? _

_ No.  _ Byakuya shakes his head firmly. 

Unfazed, Makoto shrugs and turns away again. 

They don’t end up leaving until the sun is setting, turning the skyline outside a faint orangey pink. They walk side by side toward the door, Byakuya reveling in their companionship, having almost forgotten about his conversation with his father from this morning. He can’t remember the last time he knew someone who would go out of their way to spend time with him and not get tired of him after only a few minutes. 

_ Want to go somewhere else? _ Makoto asks.

Byakuya shrugs.  _ It’s not as if I have anything else to do. Hope’s Peak is dull.  _

_ I’m glad you think I’m more exciting! _

_ I wouldn’t call it that. More like slightly less of a waste of time.  _

Makoto smiles and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he jogs down the steps. Byakuya increases his pace as well, and Makoto grins at him.

“Byakuya?” a voice asks from behind them, and Byakuya freezes, stumbling a bit, any trace of lightheartedness vanishing in the blink of an eye. Makoto looks at him curiously, but Byakuya ignores him, turning slowly, as if hoping that his parents will be gone by the time he’s fully turned around. His mother and father are walking downwards towards them, both of their faces full of confusion. “What are you doing here?” his mother asks.

“I…”

“Where is Kyouko?” his father asks.

“She...um…”

Their gazes travel, in perfect unison, away from him, to Makoto, and then back to him, anger turning his father’s face red, and his mother’s eyes widening in horror. “You lied to us,” his father says, deceptively calm, though he can see a vein pulsing in the man’s temple.

Byakuya clears his throat. “Yes. I did.”

“Is there a  _ reason _ why you didn’t mention that your ‘girlfriend’ was a boy?”

Byakuya looks back at Makoto, who looks completely baffled and more than a little alarmed. “Father, you must be stupid if you think I’m on a date with him.”

“Insolent little - ” His father takes a deep breath. “I can  _ not  _ tolerate this. I cannot tolerate my one and only heir being a homosexual.”

Makoto is watching the words type themselves out on his translator app now, and his face is almost as red and livid as Byakuya’s father’s. He begins typing rapidly. Byakuya sidesteps quickly, trying to jostle the phone out of Makoto’s hands, but it’s too late. There must be an anger mode or something, because the metallic-sounding voice that fills the air is loud and furious. “Mr. Togami, you’re being completely ridiculous and I think you need to back off.”

Byakuya glares hard at Makoto, matched only by his father’s own black look. “What did you say?”

“I said, you need to back off. There is nothing wrong with being a homosexual. What I think your problem is, Mr. Togami, is that you are a heartless, cold, power-hungry, money-grubbing fool who, when he encounters something he can’t understand, retaliates with fear and anger. If you had a little empathy maybe you would be a little nicer and more understanding for your son, who hasn’t done anything wrong. And we’re not on a date. He’s my friend.”

Byakuya swipes the phone from Makoto’s hands and stuffs it in his pocket. “I apologize, Father. He isn’t usually like this.”

It’s clear that the man is using all of his self-control not to explode at Makoto, whose arms are folded across his chest defiantly. “I’m going to call you later, Byakuya, and we’re going to have a very long talk about this.” 

Byakuya nods as his parents stalk away.  _ What the hell, Makoto? _

Makoto is still. 

_ That was none of your damn business and you shouldn’t have interfered. I thought you didn’t like conflict in the first place. And now you’ve further convinced my father I’m gay. Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done?  _

_ I don’t like conflict,  _ Makoto agrees.  _ But he was mad at you for no reason. I’d feel like an awful friend if I just stood by and did nothing. I’m sorry. _

_ You should be sorry.  _ Byakuya grits his teeth.  _ You idiot! He’s going to kill me, and I’m sure that it’s within his power to take the inheritance of the Togami Corporation away from me.  _

_ I’m sorry. I was only trying to help. _

Byakuya groans and runs a hand through his hair.  _ Yeah. Whatever. Let’s just go back to school. _

Makoto nods.

 

They say nothing the entire way back. Makoto, coming down off of the wave of adrenaline his outrage must have granted him, just studies his hands in horror and guilt. Byakuya can’t stop thinking about what the conversation with his father will be like. When they get to the dorms, Byakuya doesn’t even look at Makoto; he simply stalks off to his own room and slams the door. 

He flops down on the bed. “Fuck!” he yells, rolling over and throwing his phone at the wall. Except it’s not his phone. It’s Makoto’s. He stares at it for a long moment. Silvery cracks lace their way across the screen, the backlight blinking on and off agitatedly. He picks it up like he would a wounded animal, pressing the lock and home buttons, but they do nothing. The screen finally goes black, and nothing he does can turn it back on.

“Fuck,” he sighs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry if this got stupid at times. Let me know what you thought in the comments, I'd really appreciate some constructive feedback, whether this chapter worked or not, etc. I feel like they were both a little ooc, and there might have been too much drama in too short a chapter, idk.   
> As always, I love requests and suggestions from you guys! Anything you want to see in the story or whatever? Tell me! And I'd love to hear any songs you'd like me to write a fic to, for any pairing(s) or character(s) in Dangan Ronpa! My request series is sort of petering out, and I think some Naegami or anything else you guys want would really liven it up! Thank you so much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Makoto runs his hand through his hair as Byakuya watches, squinting at the blackboard, frustration evident in the dent his teeth make in his lip, the three fingers of each hand pressed to his temples, the short sighs that issue from his lips at regular intervals. The stubborn dolt hasn’t told anyone he doesn’t have his phone, though Byakuya supposes he should probably do something about it as well. It was his fault, after all.

But it’s sort of Makoto’s. He was the one who pissed Byakuya off in the first place.

Byakuya is sort of obligated to reimburse him, though…but he’s fairly certain that the next time he tries to use his credit card he’ll discover that his father has at least temporarily – possibly permanently – disabled his account.

He starts when he realizes Makoto is giving him a furtive sideways glance, and he looks away hurriedly, scribbling in his notebook with probably unnecessary fervor. Chihiro gives them both a questioning look, which they both ignore. Kyouko just rolls her eyes.

Makoto’s notebook is blank, save for the dark scribble marks in the margins, thick and heavy in his irritation at his inability to hear the lesson their teacher’s giving them. The test from three days ago, tucked beneath a textbook on the corner of his desk, has a big red 41 on it, along with a note from Kobayashi: _What happened?_

They’re both responsible, Byakuya decides. Makoto pissed him off and butted into his business, but Byakuya reacted in a way that he shouldn’t have, breaking Makoto’s phone.

He should apologize. Technically Makoto already has, but Byakuya hasn’t been able to bring himself to say anything yet. Upbringing? Pride? He doesn’t know the reason, but he’s never been good at apologies. He pushes his hair out of his face and looks back up at Kobayashi with a sigh. She chatters on, bright and bubbly as usual, but after a minute or two of futilely attempting to pay attention, he sighs again, gathers his things, and pushes away from his desk, standing and walking out.

Byakuya pushes his glasses up toward the bridge of his nose. Ahead of him, Nagito moves down the hall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. Byakuya has always marveled at how the older boy manages to make every step look like a terrible ordeal. It can’t be conscious or purposeful, but…sometimes it seems like every one of Nagito’s movements causes him entire worlds of pain. His steps are hesitant, guilty, almost a shuffle, and he flinches a bit every time his foot hits the ground. Byakuya tilts his head, watching him. Everything about the Ultimate Lucky Student is lonely, pained, resigned – the dejected slope of his shoulders, the bleak gray of his eyes, even his breath. Byakuya can feel pity stirring in the pit of his stomach, an unfamiliar feeling.

Nagito looks up as if startled and looks back at him. “Oh, Byakuya,” he says, giving him a smile. If Byakuya were anyone else, he’d be fooled by that smile. “How are you? I thought you usually went to class.”

Byakuya clicks his tongue. “And how would you know that?”

“We have a few mutual friends, I think.”

Byakuya raises an eyebrow. “And how would that be, if I don’t have any friends at Hope’s Peak?”

“Not even Makoto?” Byakuya is silent, and as he catches up with the upperclassman, Nagito begins walking again. “I thought you were getting pretty close.”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

Nagito laughs and lifts one shoulder apologetically. “Ah, right, sorry, it’s not my place to snoop in Ultimates’ business.” They’re silent for a long moment. “But…um…Makoto’s seemed pretty sad lately. Do you know what that’s about?” Nagito eyes him shrewdly.

“No idea. I don’t know why I would care.”

“You know…” Nagito clears his throat. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this – I don’t really deserve to give you advice – but…denying it isn’t going to help things between you two. Whenever you look at each other, it’s kind of obvious you really care about each other. All he ever talks about is you, and he’s frustrated that you won’t acknowledge that what you both have is something a lot more than a friendly relationship. Correct me if I’m wrong, but…I think his feelings for you are mutual.”

“You’re wrong,” Byakuya says firmly.

Nagito laughs again. “Oh, alright. Forget I said anything.” The sound of the bell screeches from the monitors on the walls, and the boy’s eyes stretch wide. “Oh, forgive me, but I have to go do something. I’m sorry, I hope I can talk to you again!” He takes off, racing downstairs.

Byakuya frowns after him, but moments later, something white and green flashes in the corner of his eye, and he glances out the window beside him. Nagito stands, panting, in front of a Reserve Course student, his hands on his knees. He looks up at the student and says something, smiling, and the other boy laughs, the blush on his cheeks evident even from here. He bends over and kisses Nagito’s cheek, and the two make their way over to the shade of a tree, sitting down side by side.

Byakuya huffs and follows the excited swarm of students heading down to the cafeteria. Who does Nagito think he is? What right does he have to lecture him like that?

But…still…he might be right. At the very least, it might be time for Byakuya to man up and apologize. As he sees Makoto push through the cafeteria doors in front of him, though, he’s not sure if he wants to do it quite yet. Not without a replacement cell phone, at least.

He turns on his heel and pushes his way back through the crowd and out the front doors, not even pausing to leave his bag in his room. Still in his school uniform, he hurries off campus and down the street, his feet thudding on the sidewalk as he walks as fast as he can to the nearest electronics store. He’ll put Makoto’s new phone on his personal plan, he doesn’t even care. The wait time is ridiculously long, but as soon as someone calls his name, he points out a phone one generation newer than the one Makoto had and warns the man that his card might not work before he pays. To his surprise, though, the card goes through without a hitch and he walks out with a new phone tucked beneath his arm. Makoto is speaking with Sayaka in sign language when he finally reenters the cafeteria, just a split second before the bell rings. Sayaka stands and smiles at him, waving as she follows Leon out, and Makoto smiles at her and stays behind, twirling the noodles on his plate around his fork absentmindedly.

Byakuya takes a deep breath and starts forward. He taps Makoto lightly on the shoulder. The smaller boy looks up and a grin immediately stretches across his face, his green eyes shining. Byakuya clears his throat and pulls the box containing the new phone out from under his arm. Makoto takes it, eyes wide. _You got me a new phone?_

_I felt obligated to reimburse you._

Makoto shakes his head. _You didn’t have to, really!_ But Byakuya can tell from the way he clutches the box to his chest that he’s glad to have it.

_It’s good business._

Makoto smiles. _Yeah, figures. Thank you._

_Yes. And…_ Byakuya hesitates. _I’m…sorry._

Makoto blinks at him in astonishment. He tilts his head in confusion. _Why?_

_I should not have gotten angry at you. And I should not have broken your phone._

Makoto shrugs. _It’s okay! I shouldn’t have butted in. It’s my bad._

With increasing conviction, Byakuya shakes his head firmly. _No. It’s my bad. Just let me apologize, idiot._

Makoto presses the knuckle of his index finger to his lips, stifling a laugh. _Okay, if you say so. Apology accepted. Want to skip class and go out?_

_Go where?_

_I don’t know! Somewhere fun. I don’t really care, as long as I’m hanging out with you!_

Byakuya rolls his eyes. _Whatever. Sure._ He turns and looks back at Makoto. _Are you coming?_

_Yeah!_ Makoto hops up.

On their way off campus, they pass by Nagito and his boyfriend. The Reserve Course student has fallen asleep in Nagito’s lap, his uniform rumpled and a tiny smile on his face, and Nagito smiles knowingly at Byakuya and Makoto as they pass.

_No class?_ Makoto signs to him.

_I would, but…_ Nagito gestures at his boyfriend, who, as if on cue, makes a tiny contented noise. _I don’t think I could ever wake Hajime when he’s like this. He’ll probably be mad at me for not waking him up in time for class, though._ He scratches his neck sheepishly, his gaze full of affection as he looks down.

Makoto smiles fondly and leads the way through the gates, leaving Byakuya to wonder fleetingly what Makoto looks like when he sleeps as he follows his friend. He pushes the thought away immediately, but not before he feels a blush heating the tips of his ears.

_Is this a date?_ Makoto signs slyly.

Byakuya pretends to consider it. _Not yet,_ he finally signs.

Makoto breathes in sharply, excitement slowly spreading across his face. It might not be the answer he wanted, but Byakuya is perfectly well aware that “not yet” is a far cry from the definitive “no” he’s been giving in answer to the question every time so far. Makoto nods. _Sounds good!_

 

It’s dark by the time they head back to the school again. Makoto contemplates his ice cream cone carefully, as if wondering which part to eat first. Byakuya allows himself a brief glance. Makoto’s tongue protrudes just barely from the corner of his mouth, eyebrows knit thoughtfully. He looks up and smiles at Byakuya. He pulls his phone out and types with one hand, holding it out for Byakuya to see. _I can’t believe you’re drinking coffee at seven thirty. You won’t sleep at all._

Byakuya looks down at the cup of coffee cradled in his palms, and he rolls it back and forth, fingers extended. He shrugs, earning a laugh from Makoto.

The sound is growing on him. He’s come to enjoy the odd roaring sound Makoto makes when he laughs. He feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he wrestles them down again, but not before Makoto notices and beams at him. He types in his phone again. _You seem happy._

_Do I?_

_Yeah. You’re nicer than usual. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile._

_I smile._

_Yeah, but it’s usually more of a smirk. It’s not genuine._

_I’m not a very genuine person._ He sips his coffee.

Makoto shrugs and digs into his ice cream. He looks up again, cream smeared at the corner of his lips. _I’m glad you decided to hang out with me again._

_It’s certainly better than whiling away the hours in my room or in the library._

Makoto kicks a pebble, his sneaker scratching against the pavement, and the rock clatters into a storm drain. He pumps his fist.

_Bullseye,_ Byakuya signs after a pause.

Makoto glances at him and then down at the hand now hanging at his side as he sips the coffee cup in the other. Makoto looks away and bobs his head innocently as he laces his fingers with Byakuya’s. Byakuya’s eyes stretch wide as he looks down at their hands, but…something stops him from pulling away. He can feel Makoto practically vibrating with excitement beside him, and Byakuya finds himself actually enjoying the warmth of his friend’s hand, his friend’s body beside him. He looks up and down the street over Makoto’s head nervously for a moment, but he’s not sure he cares what other people might think. Makoto squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back.

Maybe it’s time he stopped denying how he feels. When they get to Hope’s Peak and make it to the hallway outside their dorms, holding hands all the way, he lets go and, before he can decide against it, he looks away and signs, _Hey, Makoto?_

Makoto nods.

_That was a date._ He can feel himself blushing, so he hurries into his room without watching Makoto’s face for a reaction.

That was a date. That was a _date_. With a boy. His parents would be pissed. But he feels strangely giddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo! (God, no one says that anymore, so why do I? I dunno. I'm dumb.)  
> I hope you liked this chapter. I wasn't super confident about it, like I was with the first two, but let me know what you thought in the comments! I really appreciate any sort of feedback you guys have to give me.   
> Also! I am in dire need of songs for my songfic series. I would be over the moon if you guys had songs to suggest for any character(s)/pairing(s) you so desire from Dangan Ronpa.   
> Stay beautiful!


	7. Chapter 7

Byakuya sits beside Makoto as Nagito, Sayaka, and an uncomfortable-looking Hajime speak across the table. Makoto reads their conversation on his phone, his eyes glimmering with amusement as the argument becomes more and more heated. He squeezes Byakuya’s hand under the table, and Byakuya almost allows himself a smile as he leans forward to take a sip of his glass of water. _You’re going to class today?_ he asks.

_Yeah, probably. I’ve been spending too much time with you, I should probably catch up with schoolwork again._ He smiles.

Byakuya nods. It’s true; they’ve been spending probably a lot more time than is appropriate with each other, skipping class in favor of dates in the city or just afternoons and mornings spent relaxing on campus. Always with fingers intertwined, shoulders brushing, and while Byakuya won’t admit he truly enjoys the time he gets to spend with Makoto, he won’t deny it, either. _I see._

Nagito and Sayaka watch them with tiny smiles on their faces. Byakuya narrows his eyes. “Is there a problem?”

Sayaka laughs and shakes her head, while Nagito just puts his arm around Hajime’s waist. Hajime rests his head on Nagito’s shoulder. Makoto grins.

“So do you two have any plans for break?” Sayaka asks, lacing her fingers and resting her chin on them.

Byakuya freezes.

Makoto reads her words on his phone and shakes his head with a shrug. _I’m going home. It’s Komaru’s birthday in two weeks so we’ll probably do something for that. I’m not sure other than that, though._ He looks up at Byakuya.

Byakuya looks down at him, then across at Sayaka, Nagito, and Hajime, understanding for the first time what the saying “deer in the headlights” means. Makoto frowns when Byakuya remains silent. _Are you okay?_

Hajime straightens, eyeing Byakuya shrewdly. “Oh, by the way, Nagito, can I spend break at your place?”

Nagito looks over at him in surprise. “Huh?”

“It’s okay if I can’t, but my mom…” He raises his eyebrows pointedly.

“Oh! No, that’s totally fine! Absolutely! I just…I haven’t had you over yet!”

Sayaka stares at them incredulously. “You’ve been dating for how long?”

“Three years,” the two answer in unison.

Makoto glances at his phone and snorts incredulously. _You’ve been dating three years and you’ve never been to his house?_ he signs.

Hajime meets Nagito’s eyes exasperatedly, but there’s no mistaking the fondness in his gaze. “He’s always freaking out about how his house isn’t clean or he doesn’t deserve to have me over or some bullshit like that.”  
“Well, I mean – ”

“Nagito,” Hajime raises one eyebrow.

Nagito laughs. “You know me too well. We’ve talked about it, I know. No self-deprecation.”

“Damn right.”

“You’re starting to sound like Fuyuhiko!” Sayaka laughs.

Hajime laughs, too. “I spend too much time with his sister, I think. She rubs off on me.”

Byakuya shoots him a grateful look. Hajime nods at him as the sound of the bell echoes around the crowded cafeteria. They all push away from the table. “So, is anyone actually going to class today?” Sayaka asks.

Hajime shrugs. “I kind of have to. Reserve Course kids can’t skip.”

Nagito tilts his head. “I might sit in on your class, if that’s okay with you.”

“Wh-what? Can you do that?”

“Sure! I mean, I hope so…”

Makoto glances at his phone. _Yeah, I’ll probably go. I’ve missed enough, and Komaru and my mom and dad would probably kill me if they found out how often I’ve skipped._

Byakuya crosses his arms. “I suppose the same goes for me. My father is angry enough with me as it is.”

“He is? Why?”

Byakuya blinks, realizing what he’s said, and grimaces, looking away. “That’s none of your business,” he growls, at the same time as Makoto looks at his phone and signs, _Oh, Byakuya and his dad just had a falling out, it’s okay._

Sayaka frowns. “Um, okay. So…am I the only one who’s free?”

_Well, let’s be honest, what are the chances that anyone except me, Byakuya, Kyouko, and maybe Chihiro or Taka will be in class today?_

“True. Have you seen Leon? I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“I’m pretty sure he was with Mondo and Taka when I saw him this morning,” Nagito says. “But I might be wrong. Are we playing video games with Chiaki after school again today?” he asks Hajime.

“Do we ever not?”

Makoto looks up at Byakuya. _Do you want to do something when class is over today?_

_Yes._

_There’s a new movie out that I really want to see! We could go to the theater?_

_Whatever you want._ He pulls a stray hair out of the fabric of Makoto’s hoodie. _As long as you’re paying._

_Says the Ultimate Affluent Progeny?_

_Hey, I’m not made of money._

_Your title says otherwise._

Sayaka laughs. “You two are so cute!”

Makoto’s eyes widen and he looks around quickly as if searching for something else to talk about. Byakuya feels his face flush crimson and he clears his throat. “Mind your own business, Maizono.”

“Sorry, sorry!” She waves her hand apologetically. “Well, I’ll go look for Leon and Hina. See you all later?”

“Of course, if you want to,” Nagito says. She nods and makes her way through the crowd of chattering students.

Hajime grabs Nagito’s hand. “We should probably get going if I’m going to be on time for class,” he says, and soon they’re gone, too, leaving Makoto and Byakuya to fend for themselves among the people jostling each other around them.

Makoto grabs on to the back of Byakuya’s uniform, and Byakuya plows through the crowd, blazing a trail through them until they reach their classroom. Kobayashi looks up delightedly as they slump into their seats. “You’re here!”

“We are,” Byakuya says. Makoto fishes his phone out of his pocket and nods.

“Where have you two been lately?”

“Not in class,” Byakuya says. “Do you really need to know anymore than that?”

She pouts. “I guess not. Welcome back, though!”

_You act like we’re secret agents or something,_ Makoto remarks.

_The last thing we need is my father hearing I’m going on dates with you instead of attending class. He already thinks you’re my boyfriend._

_True, true._ Makoto grins. _But doesn’t he already have that last part right?_

_That’s irrelevant._

Makoto smiles and pulls his notebook out of his bag, scribbling lightly in the margins. Byakuya sits back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and watches as Kobayashi begins her lesson with her usual bubbly joyfulness. He tries unsuccessfully to focus on the class, his thoughts always drifting back to thoughts of his father. He can’t fathom what it’s going to be like having to spend the break back at home with his parents after the whole debacle on the steps of the art museum. He hasn’t had any contact with his family since then. He’s enjoyed being with Makoto like this, but now that he’s going back home he has to figure out what to do about this whole situation.

On the one hand, he could keep denying his own homosexuality to his parents. As far as they know, it’s not set in stone that he’s dating Makoto, so they might treat him normally – or at least what passes for normal in their family – if he can convince them that he’s truly dating some girl named Kyouko. But that will definitely come back to bite him in the ass. They’ll want to meet Kyouko, which would mean he would have to ask her to pose as his girlfriend, and then he’d owe her, not to mention she would never let him live it down. Makoto might get jealous, too, or be hurt. He doubts it, but that’s a possibility he has to consider.

On the other hand, he could come out. But that in itself could offer even worse consequences. He’d likely be forbidden from seeing Makoto ever again, possibly even withdrawn from school at Hope’s Peak. He’d lose his position as the Togami Corporation’s heir and would undoubtedly have countless other freedoms restricted. And…the Togami has seen its fair share of arranged marriages when one of their number chose an unfavorable companion to the image of the company. That would be disastrous.

So at the moment he’s stuck having to deny everything. He looks over at Kyouko. She might not even do it…in which case he’d have to get someone else to pretend their name is Kyouko and that they’re dating him. Hina? No chance. His family would flip their shit if they thought he was in a relationship with that halfwit. Chihiro? No…too quiet, reserved, fragile. Celeste, maybe. But…he shudders to think of having to spend family dinners and other things with her if his family buys his story. And there’s no doubt a girl like her will expect the debt he’d owe her to be repaid as soon as physically possible. He’d have to do something outlandish for her, like sacrifice a goat or something. Goddamn hellspawn of a girl. Isn’t there anyone else? Maybe Sonia, from Nagito’s class. But she’s supposedly already in a relationship, and she’s very dignified. It’s likely she wouldn’t feel comfortable posing as Byakuya’s girlfriend.

Hell, why is he even thinking about this? Shouldn’t he just look for some other solution? But what?

Oh. Obviously. He thinks back to the question Hajime asked Nagito earlier. Swallowing, Byakuya taps Makoto on the shoulder. Makoto looks up with a smile, but when Byakuya hesitates, he frowns. _You okay? What’s up?_

Byakuya sighs. His dad might kill him for this, but it’s better than fielding questions about his sexuality and supposed partners for the duration of their break. _I’d like to stay at your house over break, assuming your family would allow it._

Makoto gasps and beams wide. _Really? You want to come over?_

_Yes, I do._

_Absolutely! Komaru will probably tease you and my parents might take a day or two to get used to you, but I’m sure it’ll be fine! Can I ask why, though?_

_It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell my father arrangements have been made for the holiday._

_Sounds good,_ Makoto says, but he doesn’t try to hide his concern as he turns back to his notebook. After a moment, he picks up his phone and opens the message app. He types something in and looks up at Byakuya again with a big grin. _Just told my mom and dad!_

_Yes. I suppose I should thank you._

_No problem! I was actually a little disappointed I wasn’t going to get to see you for a couple weeks so this is great! Thanks!_

“Byakuya? Makoto?” Kobayashi frowns. “Are you two having a class-related discussion?”

“No,” Byakuya says, crossing his legs.

She nods. “I understand you’re not obligated to go to class, but…if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you would pay attention while you’re here.” She shrugs apologetically.

Byakuya nods, and after a glance at his phone, Makoto grimaces sheepishly.

 

“Hey! Byakuya!” Someone pounds at his door, her voice bright and excited. “Makoto’s wondering if you’re ready! His dad is here to pick you guys up!”

Byakuya opens the door, his bag hanging at his side. “Yes, I am.”

Hina laughs and holds up two fingers in a peace sign. “Great! He’s in the entrance hall with Sonia, Akane, and Mondo.”

“Those three? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s allowed to have friends, isn’t he? Have fun at his place!”

“Be safe!” calls Leon down the hall, grinning wolfishly.

Byakuya shoots the baseball player a withering glare and hurries down the hall after Hina, who hops from foot to foot, clearly struggling to contain her energy. “Are you excited?” she asks.

He shrugs and walks past her toward his boyfriend, who’s flailing desperately to free himself from a massive bear hug Akane has wrapped him in. Sonia laughs, and as Makoto finally breaks free, Mondo seizes him in a headlock. Makoto signs furiously, his hands moving so fast Byakuya can hardly catch what he’s saying, and Mondo laughs and releases him, tousling his hair fondly. “Have a great couple o’ weeks!”

Makoto glances at the phone in his hand and smiles, nodding. He types rapidly. “You too,” the app drones. He looks over and brightens when he sees Byakuya. _You ready?_ he asks.

_I am. Your father is here?_

_Yep!_ He walks over and turns back toward Sonia, Akane, and Mondo, leaning lightly back against Byakuya, who grudgingly places his hand on Makoto’s hip. The smaller boy types on his phone. “See you after break,” it says.

They all laugh and nod. “I cannot wait to see you then!” Sonia says.

Byakuya herds Makoto through the mass of students toward the front door, and as they pass Makoto’s friends, Mondo claps Byakuya on the shoulder and leans in close. “You’re a lucky guy, bro.” He grins and slaps him on the back, letting the two pass.

Ironic, Byakuya thinks, that the Ultimate Lucky Student’s boyfriend should be the lucky one. Makoto might have gotten the short end of the stick here, even if he doesn’t seem to think so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, I'd really love to hear what you have to say!  
> Also! If you have any songs you want me to write to for any pairing(s)/character(s) - including Naegami - in Dangan Ronpa, I'd be more than happy to write for you! Thanks for reading my story, guys, and I hope you have a wonderful day!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a real short chapter. I totally lost my motivation with this chapter and I don't know where I was even going with it in the first place so yeah.

Makoto practically hangs on Byakuya’s arm as he introduces him to his family, but Byakuya almost feels like it should be the other way around. He can’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of anxiety and dread twisting in his gut as Makoto’s mother smiles kindly at him. _This is your friend, Makoto?_ she asks, tossing a deck of cards from hand to hand by the tab on the box.

_Boyfriend,_ Makoto corrects her.

“Mhm, mhm.” She nods at Byakuya. “We’re so happy to have you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go.” She holds up the box in her hand as she pushes past them and slips out through the front door.

_Is she…gambling?_ Byakuya asks incredulously as they walk through the hallway towards Makoto’s room. The clean white carpet is soft beneath Byakuya’s feet, the walls a soft, comforting grey.

Makoto shakes his head. _She plays poker on Fridays._

_Your mother does?_

_Yeah._ Makoto grins. _She’s…not exactly what you’d call normal._

Byakuya clicks his tongue as Makoto holds a door open for him. The room he finds himself in is small, cozy, littered with old model trains and cars. Posters of book covers line the mild green walls, the threadbare flannel sheets on the small twin bed embroidered with cheerful cartoon characters. Byakuya smirks as Makoto closes the door behind them. _Cute,_ he signs.

_Shut up!_ Makoto glowers at him. _I haven’t changed my room since I was six._

_I can see that._ Byakuya pushes a toy car along the top of the dresser. He turns to face Makoto again. _So your parents know about us?_

_Yeah! Well, kind of. I told them I wanted to bring my boyfriend home and they said okay but they’ve never really acknowledged any of my boyfriends so they’ll probably keep calling you my friend as long as you’re here._

Byakuya blinks and clears his throat, a little disappointed the noise is lost on Makoto. _Okay, first thing, why? And “any of your boyfriends?”_

Makoto tilts his head. _I thought I told you you’re not the first person I’ve dated?_

_That is true, but how many boys have you brought home?_

Makoto shrugs. _It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sure you’ve dated plenty of other people, too._

It’s irrational for him to be jealous. Sighing, Byakuya nods. _But why is she like that?_

Makoto shrugs. _It makes me really angry a lot of the time, but I guess I can see where she's coming from. She always wanted me to grow up and marry a woman and give her grandchildren and all that, and now I never will. She’s still holding onto the hope that I might change my mind. I’ve confronted her about it plenty of times and I’ve fought her on it a lot but it’s hard for her to let people I’m dating come over so I keep quiet when people are around._ He spreads his hands. _Well, technically I always keep quiet, but you know what I mean._

Byakuya nods and sits down on Makoto’s bed. _She won’t get angry with us for closing the door?_

_No. And she’s gone, remember?_

_Your sister and father are still here, though._

_Oh, Komaru doesn’t care. And my dad is pretty much the same as my mom. Why? Planning something?_ Makoto smirks.

Byakuya rolls his eyes. _Would you be excited if I were?_

_Probably._ Makoto sits down next to him and leans against him. Byakuya puts his hand on Makoto’s waist, rucking up the boy’s shirt and gently rubbing his thumb along the bottom of Makoto’s ribcage. Makoto leans his cheek on Byakuya’s shoulder and closes his eyes. _You’re a lot different than I thought you were,_ Makoto signs without opening his eyes.

Byakuya frowns and taps Makoto to get his attention. _Is that a good thing?_

_Yeah,_ Makoto says, and stretches up to kiss him. Byakuya pauses in surprise for a heartbeat before softening his lips and kissing the other boy back.

The door flies open with a crash, and Byakuya jumps, standing abruptly and running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. Makoto looks up in confusion, and then at the door, where a girl, just barely younger than him, stands with a huge grin on her face. It widens when Byakuya clears his throat uncomfortably and Makoto grabs his hand reassuringly. _Oh, am I interrupting something?_ she asks.

“Yes,” Byakuya grumbles.

_It’s okay! Hi, Komaru!_ Makoto says happily.

_Hi! I didn’t know you were home!_

_Too busy reading manga in your room, I guess?_

_No! Well, yes, but –_

Makoto grins. _Of course._

She waves at Byakuya. “Uh, hi, I’m Komaru.”

“Byakuya Togami.”

“Sorry for bursting in here like that.”

He nods.

“Um…” She shifts uncomfortably. _Well, I’ll leave you to it,_ she says, leaving the room.

_You shouldn’t be so rude to her,_ Makoto says, frowning and standing up.

_She surprised me._

_She’s not going to attack you or anything. She’s nice._

Byakuya sighs. _Maybe._ Makoto raises an eyebrow. Gritting his teeth, Byakuya signs, _Sorry._

Makoto nods and smiles again. _Be nicer to her._

_I…will try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again about the length (or lack thereof).  
> As always, let me know if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better! I really appreciate all that you guys have to say.  
> Also, the song fic offer still stands. I'm so tired right now I don't even have the energy to finish my usual spiel, ugh.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fairly short chapter, but not as short as that last one. I also want to congratulate probablykenma on their marriage to this fic! Hahaha, they're wonderful. Check out the fic they wrote: [i marry a naegami fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8734165).

A low, clattering buzz wakes Byakuya. He stirs, blinking his eyes open reluctantly, looking around in the blackness. The wind howls eerily outside. Shivering, he pulls the thick spare comforter up to his chin, wrapping himself in a flannelly cocoon of warmth, though his cheeks sting in the bitter cold. The buzz comes again, short bursts followed by brief periods of silence. Above him? He isn’t that enthusiastic about having to withdraw his arm from the heavy blankets, and even less so at the thought of lifting the phone and flooding the room in its light. The dark is wonderful, soft, quiet. Between buzzes, he can hear Makoto’s soft breathing, punctuated every so often by tiny contented sighs. The sound is soothing, and soon enough, the buzzing does stop. Byakuya closes his eyes and lets the sound of his boyfriend’s sleep lull him. He’s almost slipping into dreams once more when the buzzing starts up again and he groans in frustration. Unhappily, he gives in, darting his hand up to feel around the surface of the nightstand. When he finally finds his phone, he quickly curls up once more, his knees hanging off of the edge of the narrow camping pad Makoto’s parents have provided him with. The floor is cold; he quickly pulls his knees up to his chest to conserve warmth as he unlocks his phone and squints in the subsequent surge of bright white light. Hurriedly, he turns the brightness all the way down and looks up Makoto, who is still fast asleep. Relieved, Byakuya looks back at his phone.

The calling app has a little red 4 in the corner, and when he opens it, he sighs. All of them are from his father. Of course they are. He wasn’t particularly explicit about his plans for the break when he contacted his father, but God, couldn’t he have waited, what, five hours? It’s two in the morning. He stares at the screen resentfully, until once again the phone vibrates and he answers the call exasperatedly. “Father,” he says in a hushed voice, not sure why he feels the need to be quiet when the only other occupant of the room is deaf.

“Byakuya.” Byakuya winces involuntarily at the barely contained fury in that single word. “Where are you?”

“I told you I had other plans for break, Father.”

“Yes, but your mother and I were under the impression that you simply meant you would attend to other business than we’d planned once you arrived home. You are still not home.”

“I’m at a friend’s house, Father.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t have friends. You never have. What are you really doing?”

“Father, I’m sleeping on his floor. I got here yesterday. You can ask anyone at Hope’s Peak; we’re required to inform the administration of where we’re planning to be during our vacation.”

There’s a long pause. Byakuya can hear quiet classical music somewhere in the background, accompanied by the strained, thin howl of a small dog. “Are you with that… _boy?”_

“Makoto?”

“I don’t give a damn what his name is.”

“Not currently. He’s asleep.”

“But you’re at his house.”

“I am.”

“You…I can’t believe you.”

“What can’t you believe? That I have a friend or that I’m at his house?”

“Be careful. I don’t like your tone. I cannot tolerate this. I want you to come home first thing in the morning, and we’ll talk about this. I can't have my heir fooling around with other boys.”

Byakuya clears his throat. “Father – ”

“Do not argue, Byakuya.”

“I won’t leave. I told him I would stay with him for the duration of our vacation. Are you not always telling me that I need to make good on every promise I make?”

Another pause. “You will come home.”

“No. I won’t.”

“I will withdraw you from Hope’s Peak and do everything in my power that you never see any of your classmates or… _friends_ again if you are not back here by eight AM.”

Byakuya’s eyes widen, and he sits up abruptly, blankets gathering in his lap. Outside, the wind whistles a bit louder, sending chills down his spine. “Don’t.”

“I will. Sunup, you’re here, or you can kiss Hope’s Peak and your little man-whore goodbye.”

Byakuya grits his teeth. “Don’t call him that.”

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?”

“You sound like a schoolyard bully right now, Father.”

“Because I insulted your boyfriend? So it is okay for you to endanger my entire corporation with your disobedience, but I can’t say it like it is without sounding like a ‘schoolyard bully?’”

Byakuya hisses in frustration. “I’ll be there, okay?”

“You better. And leave your homosexuality behind; I don’t want to even hear about this ‘Makoto’ again.”

“Good night.” Byakuya angrily ends the call and looks over at Makoto.

The boy’s big green eyes are half open, sleep crusted at their corners, a look of drowsy concern on his face. _What’s up? What time is it?_

_Go back to sleep. I’m leaving._

_What? Why?_

Byakuya shakes his head. _Don’t argue. I’m getting out of here as soon as the sun comes up._

Makoto sits up slowly. _Did something come up? Are you okay?_

 _It doesn’t matter._ Bitterly, he adds, _Maybe get one of your old boyfriends to come over or something._

_What? Is this because of that? You don’t have anything to worry about, you know._

Byakuya shrugs. _No, it’s not because of that. I’m really angry and it’d be in your best interest to leave me the hell alone. Forget I said anything._

_Byakuya…_

Byakuya ignores him and climbs to his feet. He leaves the room and heads to the bathroom, where he closes the door, flicks on the light, and turning on the sink. He splashes himself with cold water, the room around him blurry; he forgot his glasses in Makoto’s room.

He hates his father. He’s always known that, but now it flares into the forefront of his mind with all of the ferocity of a wildfire, heating the blood in his veins, and he wonders fleetingly what it would feel like to smash his fist into the mirror in front of him. He only got one day into break before his dad swooped in and ruined everything once again, just like he’s been doing since Byakuya was little. “I don’t fucking want to go home, you son of a bitch,” he hisses at the blurry mirror.

He stays in there for a long while, raging internally against his father, wishing with all of his might that the man would just butt the hell out of his life. But finally, fatigue overcomes him again, dulling his anger, driving him insistently out of the bathroom and back to Makoto’s room. As he’s about to slump back onto his camping pad, though, he feels a hand on his wrist and looks over. He can just make out Makoto’s eyes gleaming at him in the dark. Makoto pulls him gently forward and then pats the bed, moving away from the edge of the bed. Byakuya shakes his head, but Makoto won’t let it go, and finally Byakuya succumbs and crawls into bed beside the other boy. Makoto moves in close and presses up against Byakuya’s chest, his breath tickling the hollow of Byakuya’s throat. Byakuya relaxes hesitantly, and he sighs as Makoto kisses his neck ever so gently, trailing kisses down the column of Byakuya’s throat and across his collarbones. Byakuya sets his hand on Makoto’s waist and lets his pinky slip just barely beneath the waistband of Makoto’s boxers. He drums his fingers on Makoto’s hip. Makoto brushes the hair out of Byakuya’s face and wiggles his arms up between them so Byakuya can see him sign, _It’ll be okay._

Byakuya nods.

 

“You’re not staying?” Mrs. Naegi asks as Byakuya tucks what little he brought with him beneath his arm and accepts a gentle kiss from Makoto.

“No. I have to go.”

“Oh, alright. You’re welcome if you want to come back.”

He nods and turns, squeezing Makoto’s hand before letting go and pushing out the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Pick up…”

The third ring cuts out. “Sir.”

“Pick me up at the Thai restaurant my father likes, near the theater.”

“Yes, sir.” The driver hangs up, and Byakuya walks quickly to the restaurant. He tugs at his collar, rubbing the aching bruises right at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

His driver doesn’t take very long, and he tosses his bags in the back before slumping into one of the seats in the back. Seething, he folds his arms across his chest, tapping one finger as he watches the city go by outside.

“What has you so worked up?” the driver asks.

“It’s none of your business,” Byakuya asks.

“Sorry. Just trying to make conversation.”

“I’ve told you before not to do that anymore. If I want to talk I’ll talk.”

“Yes, sir.”

They ride in silence the rest of the way home. His phone vibrates several times in his pocket, but he ignores it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> As always, if there was something you liked or you thought I could've done better, please let me know! I really appreciate anything you guys have to say!  
> And if you have a song or something you'd like me to write to for any pairing(s)/character(s) in DR, I'd really love to hear it! If you're curious what it would look like, I'd be grateful if you would check out the songfic series it would go into, called Songs For the Hopeful Heart. Most of it is Komahina, but anything you guys have to suggest would be absolutely fantastic!  
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little extra time today so I decided to write some Christmas Eve Naegami. It's sort of short and not really all that entertaining but I hope you like it! If I have any time in the next couple of days I'll try to write some more of this.

paper-thin shadows darting across the bottom half inch of his bedposts. He glances at his phone. No texts from Byakuya in more than a week. Break is almost over, and it’s Christmas tomorrow. He’d been hoping to spend it with his boyfriend. He sighs and rolls over, pulling his comforter up to his chin and curling his hands into fists that he holds close to his bare chest. After a brief pause, he grabs for his phone and opens the message app, scratching an itch with his thumb just below his collarbone as he scrolls through his messages. Kyouko, Hina, Sonia, Akane, Mondo, Chihiro, Nagito, Taka, Sayaka, Leon, even Touko…he’s surprised at how far he has to go to find “Byakuya Togami,” accompanied by a little kiss emoji that he’d never, ever show to Byakuya. The last text in their conversation was one from Makoto. _Are you there?_ It’s from four days ago.

Heavy yellow light washes over the wall in front of him. He cranes his neck to look behind him. His mother stands in the doorway, her long hair tucked behind her ear, her face shrouded in darkness as the light shines through her many flyaway hairs, much like a halo. She moves forward, her steps light on the soft carpet, and sits beside him. _You’re in bed early. Are you alright?_

_Chiaki, Chihiro and I stayed up late last night on Skype and I had that doctor’s appointment this morning so I couldn’t sleep in._

She nods. _So responsible. Merry Christmas._

He smiles and nods. _Merry Christmas, Mom._

Beaming, she leans over, kisses his cheek, and leaves the room again, closing the door behind her.

He glances back at his phone. _Merry Christmas!_ he types slowly, the glass frigid beneath his thumbs. It fogs up with his breath, and he wipes it on his sheets before looking at the screen again. He taps the home button absentmindedly with his thumb, then presses Send. Just like all of his messages to Byakuya, it’s simply delivered, not read.

He frowns. He knows he’ll probably see Byakuya at school in a few days, but it seems wrong not to try a little harder to reach out on Christmas. It’s not like he can really call, though, for obvious reasons.

He folds his arms beneath his head. It’s cold, but he doesn’t mind particularly; he’s never been one for warmer temperatures. His phone vibrates beside him. It’s Chihiro. _Merry Christmas Eve, Makoto!_ He smiles fondly but doesn’t reply. Closing his eyes, he lets himself give into his fatigue, thick tendrils of sleep reaching out to drag him into unconsciousness, but then his eyes snap open, a grin spreading across his face. He throws his blankets off and dresses quickly. Just a t-shirt, a hoodie, a pair of jeans. As an afterthought, he pulls on a powder blue beanie – why not? It’s cold, and Sonia’s told him he looks nice in it. Mondo gave it to him before school got out, as an early Christmas present. Taka apparently got it from his brother, and, of course, would never be seen wearing a hat in school, so he gave it to Mondo. Mondo isn’t the beanie-wearing type to say the least. So now it’s Makoto’s. Komaru called it his reject beanie when he told her, but he likes it. He never used to get gifts from people at his old school. They all just avoided him, save for a select few kids. He can’t blame them; it’s not so easy having to deal with a deaf kid as a friend, especially since most middle school kids don’t really know sign language unless they’re forced to learn. Sayaka was cool, though.

He leaves his room and hurries toward the front door. His dad looks at him in surprise, a book tucked under his arm. _Where are you going?_

_I’ll be back before midnight. Probably._

_Be careful, okay?_

Makoto nods and rushes outside into the snow, stepping carefully across the sheet of ice that is their driveway. One of his neighbors waves at him, and he grins and waves back as he steps out onto the sidewalk. The wind whips his hair out of his face. Snow and sleet sting his cheeks. Shivering, he hunches his shoulders against the cold.

The city is so much darker at night. He’s heard of places like New York being just as busy and bright when the sun goes down, but here…he’s always been stunned by the – pardon the pun – night-and-day difference. The moment there’s any sort of light in the sky, the sounds of car motors and busy voices fill the air, but when it’s gone, nothing but silence and the stray traveler grace the streets.

When he was young, he always wanted to be an actor. He can’t, of course – no hearing, and all that – but when he was little and still believed that somehow he’d make his way to the stage, he would play little games. Once he asked his mother if she would put up a pair of red curtains in place of his door so that when he woke up in the morning and left his room, the curtains could draw apart like real ones he’d find in an auditorium. She didn’t, but she was more than supportive of his obsession, and would often take him and an interpreter to plays. As a family, they’d rent a musical or show every Saturday night and watch it together. In the winter, he and Komaru pretended they were filming a movie, and they’d build makeshift props and sets out of snow. Now, though, as he watches falling flakes settle on his nose, he wonders if it really would be as impossible as he’s thought. He might make a pretty good actor in movies with deaf characters. Who knows?

He doesn’t realize until he’s close to where Byakuya that he has no idea how he’s going to find Byakuya when he gets there. He can’t really talk to his parents, and he doubts he could find Byakuya’s room from the outside. He doesn’t even know if Byakuya’s room has a window. Or if his boyfriend will be okay with him sneaking in.

He hurries through a back alley, appreciative of the break in the wind, and allows himself a small smile. He’s almost to Byakuya’s place, he’s sure of it. He’s obviously never been there with Byakuya but he remembers Byakuya saying it was about a half mile east of his company’s building. He’s definitely well into the richer part of the city. Walking as fast as he can, he tucks his chin into his chest, rounds the corner of a thick hedge, and promptly walks straight into something solid. He stumbles backwards and looks up, blinking in surprise, and freezes.

Byakuya’s watching him, his brow furrowed in confusion and surprise, melted snow dripping from the right lens of his glasses. Makoto grins. After a long, stunned moment, Makoto grins wider at the hardly visible, guilty smile that turns up the corners of Byakuya’s lips, the one Makoto loves seeing so much. _Makoto._

_Hi, I was just coming to see you!_

Byakuya raises an eyebrow. _Really. What were you going to do, charge in like some knight in shining armor to rescue me from my homophobic dragon parents?_

_No…but I bet you’d like that._

_I’d find it hilarious, if that’s what you mean._ Byakuya turns him around and walks beside him back the way Makoto came. Almost seeming embarrassed, he leaves one arm slung around Makoto’s shoulders.

Makoto snorts in amusement. _Where were_ you _going?_

Byakuya looks down at him and pauses to wipe his glasses on the sleeve of his jacket. With them securely back on his face, his sharp blue gaze made all the more intimidating encircled by thin white frames, he signs, _I was just taking a walk, but I was thinking about walking by your house at some point._

_So you were coming to see me?_

_I wouldn’t say that._

Makoto smiles and brushes his bangs out of his face. Byakuya reaches over and pulls his beanie down in front of his eyes. Makoto splutters, tugging it away and looking up at him. _I’m glad to see you,_ he says.

 _I know,_ Byakuya signs, which Makoto knows translates into, _I’m really glad to see you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! As always, if there was something you liked or something you thought I could do better, please let me know! I'm always appreciative of any feedback you guys have to give me. And if you have a song you'd like me to write for any pairing(s)/character(s) - including naegami - in DR, I'd love to hear it! Thank you guys so much for reading! Happy holidays to all of you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> I'm so sorry it took this long to post a new chapter, I've been so busy getting back into school and all that. (I also just got Dragon Age: Origins and I've been slightly preoccupied...and a terrible procrastinator.) But I'm back! From now on, at least for a while, my updates will probably take a bit longer - maybe even as long as this one took me - but just know that I haven't abandoned the work! I'm way too in love with this pairing to abandon it. I hope you enjoy!

Across the room, Makoto scribbles rapidly on Kobayashi’s chalkboard, just enough of his face visible for Byakuya to spot the furrow between his eyebrows, his narrowed green eyes, his tongue tip (caught between his front teeth). It’s not a particularly hard question, but then again, Makoto’s never been the best at school. He would’ve had to go to a cheap, far inferior school if he’d never been selected in Hope’s Peak’s lottery, he told Byakuya when they curled up on Makoto’s couch after Makoto came and found him on Christmas Eve. Byakuya snorted with amusement. Makoto looked up at him, eyes full of reproach, and Byakuya immediately felt guilty. Makoto was taking him in, after all, and it was a favor Byakuya doubted his boyfriend would let him repay.

With a definitive flourish, Makoto completes the question and looks over at Kobayashi. She grins and nods emphatically. “Wonderful job!”

He watches her lips carefully and then glances down at his phone, ever-present and clutched tightly in his left hand. He smiles up at her and nods before weaving between the empty desks and making his way back to his own. Twisting in her seat in front of him, Hina gives him a high five and makes finger guns at Byakuya. She clicks her tongue playfully and laughs as she turns back around to face forward. Byakuya rolls his eyes.

A quiet buzzing sound starts up from inside his bag, and Celeste coughs daintily behind him. It’s been doing this all class, over and over, and he doesn’t have to check to know that it’s his mother. Again. She’s been calling him almost nonstop for a few days now. He sighs, reaching in his bag and pressing the lock button to silence the incessant buzzing. He’s sure it’ll come back in a minute or two, but by then they should be out of class, so he won’t have to deal with it.

Kobayashi sets both hands on the edge of her desk and leans against it, beaming at all of them. “So many of you showed up today! Your homework for tomorrow is to answer the questions I’ve written on the board. It shouldn’t be too much, and while I understand you’re not required to actually do it, I think it’d be great practice for you all!”

Chihiro raises a tentative hand. When Kobayashi calls on her, she brushes her hair behind her ear and gives a tiny smile. “My friend told me that her teacher has found a way to get her class to attend every day. You could try talking to her?” she suggests in her quiet little voice.

“Oh? Who’s your friend? What class is she in?”

“Her name’s Chiaki Nanami. I think she’s in Class 77-B.”

“That’s…Chisa’s class, I think. I’ve never spoken to her, but I think I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Chihiro!”

Chihiro nods just as the bell rings. They all stand and push their things into their bags, the room erupting into a flurry of movement, and Byakuya falls in beside Makoto as he leaves the classroom. _Want to skip class after lunch?_ Makoto asks.

_I don’t know. Depends._

_I won’t ask you to go anywhere with me._ Makoto looks up at him sympathetically.

_That’s probably best. For now._ Just the thought of going out in public, where his parents might be, makes him shudder.

Makoto watches him with concern. _You never told me exactly what happened with them…do you want to talk about it?_

Byakuya’s frustrated that he can’t snap at him in sign language. _No,_ he signs emphatically, and Makoto nods, dropping the subject, and Byakuya is only half listening as he signs eagerly about some computer game Chihiro told him about that he wants to try.

 

He’s had his fair share of miserable holidays. Just like anyone. One Christmas he had to dig a grave for his dead dog and what few gifts he’d expected to receive had been delayed. He didn’t get any of them until the next March. But…this one really took the cake, so to speak. It wasn’t fun.

The moment he arrived home, his cell phone already blowing up with texts from Makoto, his father pounced. The man half-led, half-dragged him up to his room, took his phone, pushed him inside and locked the door. He’d cut all the power to Byakuya’s room, so he spent hours upon hours shivering beneath the blankets on his bed until his mother slipped in, handed him a plate of food, and left again, making sure to lock the door behind her. It went on like that for days, the cold making it harder and harder for him to sleep, but they let him out on Christmas Eve. He spent hours by the fire warming up while his mother slipped him food behind his father’s back. Finally, his father returned his cell phone. “We need to talk,” he growled, his eyes dark.

He sat Byakuya down on one of their stupidly extravagant couches and settled down across from him, the distance somehow all the more intimidating. Byakuya’s mother joined them after a moment, her hands folded in her lap, the only sign of distress on her part the occasional anxious twitch of her thumbs. Byakuya eyed them both suspiciously.

“You are my son and heir,” his father said, his voice low, careful.

“I am,” Byakuya agreed.

“I want nothing but the best for you.”

“I’m sure.”

“So I want to ask you…”

“Ask away.”

“Am I right?”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “About what, Father?” he asked slowly. It didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was talking about.

“I think you know. It concerns your…sexuality.”

“Ah.”

His father drummed his fingers on his thigh impatiently. “…So?” he asks finally.

“No. You’re not right.”

“You’re lying.”

“If you think you already know the answer, why did you ask me?”

“Don’t be smart with me.”

“Am I supposed to be dumb with you? Is that what you’d prefer?” When his father gritted his teeth, Byakuya leaned back into the couch cushions and went on. “A dumb, obedient pawn of a son with nothing better to do than to do your bidding and bring home wealthy girlfriends?”

“Maybe that _is_ what I want,” his father hissed.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it looks like I’m a bit more intelligent than the sheep you were hoping for.”

“If you really are smart you’ll stop testing my patience,” his father warned.

Byakuya said nothing.

“Ah. Good. So. I know you’re lying about that boy.”

“Father, you saw me with him one time. I don’t see how that could make you think that I’m gay.”

“I saw you with him one time. You went home with him for winter break because apparently you’d rather spend your holidays with him than at home. And…” He fished in his back pocket and pulled out Byakuya’s phone, holding it up accusingly. “Your phone is _packed_ with texts from him. And to him. And I’d say that quite a few of them are _far_ past the point of being purely platonic.”

“How do you know they’re from him?”

“I’m fairly certain I recall you referring to him as ‘Makoto’ by the museum, no?”

Shit. So he did already know Makoto’s name. Byakuya had thought maybe he could pass it off as some girl from school; Makoto can be a girl’s name as well, after all. He said nothing.

His father’s eyes darkened. “I hope this is just a phase. Your mother explained to me that some teenagers go through a phase like this in high school. But I want to assure you, if that is the case, you are straight. You don’t need to experiment with boys. I don’t care if it’s fun. It isn’t you, and I look forward to the day you decide to take one single young woman as your wife and rise to the head of this company.”

“‘One single young woman?’ Do you think I have some kind of harem at my disposal?”

“I don’t know. You could.”

Byakuya can’t help it. He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in contempt.

A vein pulses in his father’s temple. “You insolent little…” He trails off. “Byakuya, your mother and I think that this…thing with your friend has gone too far. We want you to start seeing a therapist.”

“You think I need conversion therapy.”

“We do.”

“You said you thought this was just a phase.”

“Better safe than sorry. I’m sure you understand.”

What Makoto said in front of the museum that night echoes in Byakuya’s ears, and he closes his eyes. “How could I?”

There’s a dangerous pause. He could swear both of his parents are holding their breath. “…What?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Father.” He opens his eyes and fixes them both with a hard stare. “I don’t understand you at all. We’ve always had an unsteady relationship. You see me more as a pawn for the company’s advancement than you do as a son. I’ve never questioned that.”

“That isn’t – ”

“Don’t try to deny it because we both know it’s true. Mother knows it’s true. Anyone who’s ever met you knows. But, Father…I am your _son,_ and while I have no liking for you or anything else you stand for, I’m in the unfortunate situation that many children with awful parents find themselves in, in which I cannot help but love you. And I have something to tell you. I am not doing this to destroy your reputation or mine, or to do anything to damage that of the company’s, but I’m gay. And I don’t need conversion therapy or any of your other fruitless solutions you might come up with because I don’t need you. And I’d like my phone back.”

His parents stared at him. His mother’s hand had flown up to cover her mouth, her blue eyes flying wide, and his father clenched his fists around handfuls of the legs of his pants, his knuckles white, teeth grinding so tightly that Byakuya wondered if one would break.

Byakuya stood up calmly, the realization that he may have just earned himself another week or so locked in his room sending a spike of fear ripping through his thoughts. He shook his head. “Give me my phone. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not,” his father said, staring at the ground.

“I am.”

“Give me my phone.”

“You’re not leaving.”

Byakuya sighed. “It’s clear that I’ve disappointed you, and quite frankly, you’ve disappointed me, too. So I’m leaving. Give me my pho – ”

Everything slowed almost to a stop. His head whipped sideways, pain exploding through his cheek, radiating outward from just below his left eye, and he tumbled to the ground, the carpet soft and tinged with blood as he lay there, stunned.

His mother gasped. His father’s ring, emblazoned with the family crest, gleamed bloody and silver on the back of his hand, which hovered in the air, trembling slightly. His eyes blazed. Byakuya climbed to his feet, slowly, his ears ringing, and shook his head. “I want my phone back, and I’m getting the hell out of here.” The gash left by his father’s ring stung with every syllable.

His father blinked at him numbly for a moment before the rage vanished from his face and he slumped back onto the couch, defeated, resentful. “Fine.” He fished the device out from between the cushions, where it had slipped when he stood up, and tossed it to his son. Byakuya caught it and turned away, gritting his teeth as blood trickled down his cheek. He wiped it on his sleeve – he’ll have to wash it later – and pushed through the front door. His mother called his name once, but he ignored her, instead letting the door fall closed behind him and making his way out into the night. And then Makoto found him.

 

His boyfriend touches the almost healed skin on Byakuya's cheek now, gently, his chapped (always chapped) lower lip caught between his teeth. _You’re not listening, are you?_

_Am I not allowed to have my own thoughts? I don’t care about video games._

Makoto sighs and nods, worry darkening his gaze, but he smiles and looks up after a moment, vivid green eyes bright again. _Let’s do something fun today, okay? I know we can’t go out, but let’s make the most of our time at school!_

Byakuya nods. Makoto was right when he said he was optimistic, and Byakuya can’t deny that he appreciates it. Greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been thinking, and anyone who's been reading this regularly probably has my whole spiel memorized by now so I'll probably quit it with that. But remember to let me know if you have a song you want me to write to for my songfic series!  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Byakuya stumbles over his own feet as the girl practically drags him down the hallway. Her multicolored hair swishes wildly around her shoulders and her tiny skirt brushes her thighs with the rhythm of her rapid stride. “You’re so slow!” she whines, moving around behind him and pushing him toward one of the dorm rooms, the door sporting a placard that reads, _Chiaki Nanami._

He digs in his heels, and she groans loudly in frustration, turning a few heads from students going about their business down toward the laundry room and bathhouse. “I don’t know you!” he shouts.

“Sure ya do! Ibuki knows you, so you must know Ibuki!”

“Not necessarily!”

“Yes necessarily. Now come onnnn!” She shoves him forward roughly just as the door opens to reveal a nervous-looking girl with choppy violet hair and a bandage on her cheek.

“Mikan,” a sleepy, feminine voice calls from somewhere behind her. The lights are off, the windows shaded, and the room is almost pitch black. “Is it Ibuki? And…” There’s a soft mumble from someone else. “And Byakuya?”

“I…I think so? I d-don’t know...are y-you Byakuya?” She flinches away when he raises an eyebrow at her. “Sorry!” she cries.

“Stop your blubbering. What do you want with me?”

“I…I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She bows low. “Sorry! B-but…Makoto thought you m-might want to c-c-come play with us.”

“So you sent this imbecile to come abduct me?”

Ibuki grins wide at him, one long, painted fingernail pressed into the soft skin of her cheek. The girl in the doorway – Mikan – looks like she’s two seconds away from crying. He shakes his head in disdain, and a sob bursts out of her throat. “I’m sorryyyyy!” she wails again.

There’s a rustling of fabric followed by soft footsteps. A moment later Makoto appears in the doorway, his brow furrowed. He sends Mikan back inside and lifts one shoulder. _You don’t have to scare her like that._

_She scared herself._

Makoto rolls his eyes and beckons them both inside. Byakuya shoots a wary glare at Ibuki and waits for her to go first before reluctantly walking inside. As he lets his eyes adjust, someone brushes past him and pushes the door shut. The dim glow of a television and the power light of a gaming system washes across a thick, fuzzy purple rug stretched out in front of the bed. Three girls’ silhouettes – including Ibuki’s, who’s just sitting down, flopping to the ground with an audible thud – and that of two boys, one of them Makoto, are outlined sharply by the light. “Byakuya,” one of the boys greets him, and Byakuya recognizes his voice. “Hajime,” he replies. He settles down beside Makoto and pushes his glasses up his nose, frustrated that it’s so dark; neither he nor Makoto would have any idea what the other was saying if they tried to talk. “What am I doing here?” he demands.

As if in answer, one girl who he thinks is Chiaki holds up a remote and the television screen, which had been displaying the company’s logo, bouncing back and forth off of the edges of the screen, blazes to life to display, with a loud burst of cheery music, the title of some video game he’s never heard of. As the light flickers across the planes of Makoto’s cheeks, Byakuya can see that his boyfriend is grinning eagerly. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You two are inseparable anyway; why not get you to come over, too?” Hajime says. Chiaki flops over sideways into his lap, and he moves his hands slightly, pinned to his legs by her weight. “Uh…Chiaki, I can’t play like this.”

She hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move. “It’s a fun game,” she says in that low, slow voice of hers.

Byakuya exhales slowly through his nose. “I don’t care about games. I thought I made that perfectly clear.”

“You’re not leaving!” Ibuki chirps, but there’s an edge to her voice, and after getting quite literally hauled here by his wrist, he’s not sure he wants to challenge her. “You’re going to play Chiaki’s game and _you’re going to like it!”_

Chiaki shakes her head and blows a strand of rosy pink hair out of her eyes with a quiet puff. “He doesn’t have to like it…”

“But you should try it,” Hajime says. “You might be surprised.”

“Who said I haven’t tried video games before?”

Frowning, Chiaki puffs out her cheeks. “Not all games are the same,” she says. “There are lots of different kinds, and lots of people have their preferences. Maybe you’ve just played games that you don’t like. Maybe you’ll like others.”

“You did say I didn’t have to like it.”

“You don’t,” she says. “That’s what” – she yawns – “I’m saying.”

“Don’t fall asleep in my lap!” Hajime protests, but it’s too late. The sound of her soft, even breathing fills the room. Hajime fidgets uncertainly.

“Sh-should we let him leave?” Mikan pipes up.

Ibuki leaps to her feet. “Nope! He’s being stubborn and dumb. Ibuki won’t let him leave!”

“Chiaki’s asleep, though,” Mikan points out.

“I was sleeping?” she murmurs, rubbing one eye.

“Oh.”

Makoto, who’s been watching the conversation play out on his phone, gives a smile that’s sort of halfway between confused and amused. _You should play!_ he signs at Byakuya.

“If you don’t play, Ibuki’ll throw a controller at your head.”

“N-no v-v-violence! Please!”

“You are pretty violent today, Ibuki,” Hajime remarks, trying unsuccessfully to get Chiaki to sit up. She makes little dissatisfied noises and grabs for the controllers on the TV stand.

“It’s Ibuki’s violent day!”

“Violent day?”

“Ibuki gets one once a month!”

“It seems more like twice a week.”

“Ibuki will throw a controller at your head, too!”

“These controllers were expensive,” Chiaki protests.

 _You can go first,_ Makoto offers.

_Not going to happen. Besides, can’t only four people play at once?_

“Well…yeah…” Hajime says.

The doorbell rings loudly and they look up. Chiaki perks up immediately and jolts upward, hitting her head against Hajime’s jaw. They both yelp and stare at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing, collapsing onto the floor, their shoulders shaking. Makoto and Byakuya exchange a baffled glance as Ibuki stumbles to her feet to go answer the door and Mikan pokes uncertainly at Chiaki’s ribs, making her laugh even harder. Byakuya covers one eye with his hand, sighing. These people…they’re going to be the death of him.

Light from the hallway floods the room suddenly, and they all groan, squinting. It’s Chihiro, her hands clasped in front of her, big brown eyes cautiously curious.

“You’re Chihiro!” Ibuki exclaims, and she throws herself forward to wrap the girl in a hug. She leads Chihiro inside with an arm around her shoulders and kicks the door shut behind him. She winks and sticks her tongue out, piercings glinting in the television’s light. “Goooooood to see ya!”

“He came?” Chiaki asks with a smile. She looks up at them, still on the floor, though Hajime’s propped himself back up on his elbows.

“Yeah, h-hi, Chiaki!” Chihiro gives her a bright smile.

Byakuya frowns in confusion. He?

“But um…who else is here?”

“Don’t recognize anyone?” Hajime asks kindly. “I’m Hajime. This is Makoto, Byakuya, Mikan, and Ibuki.”

“Oh! Makoto and…Byakuya?” Her eyes narrow, and her shoulders lift slightly, as if she’s throwing her guard up.

“Oh, right, you’re in the same class. But, um...Chiaki always calls you a ‘he?’”

Chihiro glances nervously at Makoto and Byakuya. Makoto watches the conversation play out on his phone with a bewildered frown. “Um…I’m sorry.”

Chiaki shakes her head at Hajime, and he lets it go. “So, who’s going to play first?”

“Ibuki! Ibuki!”

“Ibuki,” Chiaki says.

“Yahoo!”

“And…Mikan, do you want to?”

“I-if that’s what you want!”

“Chihiro and me.”

“What? Not me?” Hajime asks.

Chiaki starts handing out the controllers along with white plastic steering wheels that seem to fit around them. “Mm-mm.”

Chihiro accepts hers – theirs? his? – sheepishly. “I know you’ll win, Chiaki.”

Makoto leans against Byakuya’s side. _This is…an experience._

_Like a train wreck is an experience, you mean?_

The screen divides itself into quarters and four different bizarre avatars appear, lined up behind some kind of starting line and surrounded by other characters in huge cartoonish vehicles. Byakuya raises an eyebrow. Ibuki is already yelling insults at all three of the other players as a countdown beeps onscreen and the line of people – if you could call them that – surge forward. Mikan’s spits exhaust and fishtails for a moment, her profuse, high-pitched apologies filling the air as Hajime tries to calm her down. Makoto’s clearly suppressing a laugh as he looks at his phone, and Byakuya rolls his eyes, though he can feel himself relaxing.

 

“What time is it?” Chiaki asks sleepily, her head resting on Mikan’s stomach. Mikan’s asleep, her dark purple hair falling in sheets across her face, fluttering slightly with her breath. Drool trailing from the corner of her mouth, Ibuki’s sprawled across them both.

Hajime, fingers locked around his controller, eyes wide and bloodshot, shrugs. Byakuya can hear his phone buzzing, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind.

Makoto’s fallen asleep, too. He’s stretched across Byakuya’s lap, and Byakuya rests his forearms on his boyfriend’s side, his own controller clutched in his hands as he tries to run Hajime off of the road. They finally got him to play when he tried to leave and Ibuki grabbed Chiaki’s sewing kit and ran to block the door, waving two needles in their air like miniature swords. They’ve all lost track of time; they’ve been here for hours. Chihiro left a while ago to work on some programming project, but Byakuya wonders if they’re asleep too.

The race ends, Byakuya just barely in the lead, and he smirks at Hajime, who throws his controller across the room. It lands on Chiaki’s bed with a soft thud.

“Hey,” she mumbles indignantly.

Hajime seems to notice for the first time his phone going wild in his pocket. “Oh. Whoops.” He pulls it out and brings it to his ear. “Hey, babe…sorry, I know I promised you I’d be there.” He climbs to his feet and walks off.

Chiaki pokes Mikan’s cheek gently with one outstretched finger. “Do you have a phone?”

“Yes…?” Byakuya says.

“What time is it?” she asks again.

Too tired to sass her, he glances at his screen. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Really? But I feel so tired.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s pretty normal,” Hajime says, already off the phone.

“It’s so early.”

“When do you usually sleep?”

“Five or six.”

Hajime groans, shaking his head in dismay. “Seriously…” He stuffs his cell back in his pocket. “Listen, I have to go.”

“Aw, why?”

He scratches his neck, embarrassed, and says nothing. Chiaki smiles a little and wiggles her eyebrows, earning a sharp glare from him. He turns and waves at them both as he leaves.

“Are you going to leave, too?” she asks Byakuya.

“It looks like I’m the only one awake enough to play, so yes.”

“I’ll play…” she offers, but a yawn cuts her off.

He slides his arms beneath Makoto’s shoulders and knees as he stands up, letting the boy’s head fall against his shoulder. “Get the door for me.”

Reluctantly, she pushes herself up, slides out from beneath the sleeping Ibuki’s weight, and goes to do as he says. “Thanks for…for coming,” she says, another yawn interrupting her.

He nods at her and leaves. He doesn’t have a key to Makoto’s room, so he goes straight to his own. It’s a struggle to get the door unlocked and open, but he manages, his movements clumsy with exhaustion, and he sets his boyfriend down on his bed. He hesitates. How is he going to sleep like this, though? He feels weird sharing a bed when Makoto isn’t even aware. He shrugs, picks Makoto up again, puts him in the armchair he’s had carried into his room by some Hope’s Peak faculty, and climbs into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to porkcutletfatale for being the first reader of this particular fic to suggest a song for my request series! Let me know if you've got one you want me to write, too! I love you guys!


End file.
